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Ribaut  and  Brirlaine. 


RABAUT  AND  BRIDAINE; 


OR, 


THE    COURT    OF    LOUIS    XV. 


PROM    THK    FRENCH    OF 


L.  L.  F.  BUNGENER, 


AUTHOR  OF  "  BOURDALOUE  AND  LOUIS  XIV,"  "  LOUIS  XV,  AND  HIS  TIMES, 
AND  "THK  TOWHR  OF  CONSTANCY." 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED   BY    D.    LOTHROP  &   CO. 

DOVER,  N.  H.  :  G.  T.  DAY  &  CO. 


ROCKWELL  *  Ciirraoini.T.,  Printers. 
1U"2  Washington  St.,  Boston. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  VARIOUS  EFFECTS  OF  THE  DISCOMFITURE 

II.  A  ROUGH   VISITOR.     NO  ANSWER    RECEIVED  TO  A 

PLAIN  QUESTION 9 

III.  A  DIFFICULT  THING  FOR  ROMAN  CATHOLIC  PRIESTS 

TO  BELIEVE  IN  TRANSUBSTANTIATION    ....  16 

IV.  THE  TWO  BROTHERS.     LIVES  OK  THE  SAINTS  ...  W 

V.  SAINTS.      MANUFACTURE  OF  SAINTS 22 

VI.  SAINT   JUVENTIA 32 

VII.  THE   MARQUIS  REFLECTS 36 

VIII.  THE  CEVENOL  IN  PRISON      37 

IX.  A  VISITOR.     THE  CEVENOL'S  HISTORY  CONTINUED.  38 

X.  MADELEINE 07 

XI.  TWO  PETITIONS   GRANTED fi9 

XII.  BRIDAINE   WITNESSES  A  SINGULAR  SPECTACLE  .  .  71 

XIII.  L'ESPRIT  OF  HELVETIUS 74 

XIV.  A  STRANGE  AUTO-DA-FE 70 

XV.  THE  CHARACTER  AND  WORKS  OF  HELVETIUS     .  .  78 

XVI.  FRENCH  JOURNALS  IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  82 

XVII.  VOLTAIRE'S  IMPLACABILITY 85 

XVIII.  PECULIARITIES  OF   ROUSSEAU 88 


2135532 


t  CONTENTS. 

XIX.    THE  ENCYCLOPEDISTS    OBSERVE  THE  AUTO-DA- 
FE   FROM  A  DISTANCE 93 

XX.    RECANTATIONS  OF  THE   INFIDELS 99 

XXI.    WANT  OF   CANDOtt  OF  AUTHORS   OF  THE    PRES- 
ENT DAY 100 

XXII.  HELVETIUS  BECOMES  THOUGHTFUL.  SAD  DIS- 
COVERY CAUSING  SERIOUS  REFLECTIONS.  .  103 

XXIII.  NOBLE  CAREER  OF  ANTOINE  COURT 107 

XXIV.  LITERARY  LABORS  OF  COURT  DE   GEBELIN    ...      110 
XXV.    GEBELIN  AND  THE  BOOKSELLER.     GREAT  DIFFI- 
CULTY WITH  WHICH  THE  HUGUENOTS  WERE 
ABLE    TO  PRESERVE  THEIR  BIBLES  AND  RE- 
LIGIOUS BOOKS 113 

XXVI.    GEBELIN'S  CORRESPONDENCE 117 

XXVII.    RABAUT.   DISHONESTY  OF  THE  ROMISH  CHURCH  .      119 

XXVIII.    IS  SHE  ALTERED  IN  THIS   RESPECT? 123 

XXIX.    GEBELIN'S  GIGANTIC  PLANS  OF  LITERARY  LABOR. 

THE  PRISONERS  OF  AIGUES-MORTES 124 

XXX.  THE  PRIEST  AND  THE  HUGUENOT.  DISCUSSION 
OF  THE  UTILITY  OF  MONASTERIES  IN  A  LIT- 
ERARY POINT  OF  VIEW.  AUTHORITY  OF  THE 

BIBLE  AND  THE  CHURCH 135 

XXXI.    THE  BOOK  WHICH    WAS    BURNT    IN    THE    COURT 
OF   THE    PALACE.     CHOOSING    A  TEXT.     SU- 
PREME   AUTHORITY  OF   THE   CHURCH    ....      14<5 
XXXII.    INTOLERANCE  OF   THE   CLERGY     153 

XXXIII.  BRIDAINE  CHOOSES  HIS  TEXT.    UNIVERSAL  DIF- 

FUSION   OF   KNOWLEDGE    AFTER    THE    REF- 
ORMATION        154 

XXXIV.  DUTIES  OF  PREACHERS    AND  HEARERS.  ...  157 


CONTENTS.  O 

XXXV.  RABAUT'S  TEXT.     ROMAN  FISCAL  CODE 103 

XXXVI.  THE    KING'S    GAMBLING    MONEY.      MINES.     THE 

OLD  ELMS.      RICHELIEU'S   IDEAS  IN  REGARD 

TO   THE  SUPREME   AUTHORITY  OF  KINGS    .   .  160 

XXXVII.     THE   KING   SEES   MORE   CLEARLY.      A   PLAN    ...  173 
XXXVIII.     MADAME    DE    POMPADOUR'S    BUDGET     OP    ANEC- 
DOTES.       A      NEW      PLAN     TO     AMUSE     THE 

KING 176 

XXXIX.  RABAUT'S  MEMORIAL.  THE  PROTESTANT  CLERGY- 
IN  FRANCE.  THE  CATHOLIC  CLERGY.  PER- 
SECUTION    180 

XL.    THE    KING    WILL    SEE    RABAUT.      HE    WAVERS 

AS  TO  HOW  HE  WILL  RECEIVE  HIM 187 

XLI.    RECEPTION    OF    RABADT.      HE    TAKES    HIS    DE- 
PARTURE       190 

XLII.    RABAUT'S   MEMORIAL 193 

XLIII.    SOFTENING  EFFECTS      ." 206 

XLIV.     AN   EDICT 209 

XLV.    A   BANKRUPT  GOVERNMENT 213 

XLVI.    THE   KING  AND   HIS   MINISTER 218 

XLVII.     THE   KING'S   EDICT 220 

XLVIII.    THE   KING'S  CONFESSOR 222 

XLIX.    POLICY 225 

L.    A    HARD   STRUGGLE.      VICTORY 229 

LI.     MADAME   DU   DEFFANT 233 

LIT.     CONVERSATION   IN   THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY  .  230 

LIII.     RABAUT  AND   GEBELIN 240 

LIV.    HUGUENOT  AND  JANSENIST 259 

LV.    EXPECTATION 2C7 

LVI.    A   YOUNG  ORATOR 268 


>  CONTENTS. 

LVII.    MAURY'S  TEXT 271 

L VIII.     TIIK    SKKMON 273 

LIX.    WHAT  SHALL  I   CRY 277 

LX.     A    PROPHETIC   VISION 281 

LXI.    FASHIONABLE   RELIGION 285 

LXII.     A   COTERIE 287 

LX1II.     THE   KING   INCOGNITO 280 

LX1V.    THE  CONFESSOR.     HIS   ADVERSARIES 201 

LXV.     THE    PRIEST 203 

LXVI.     THE    KING'S   MIND 205 

LXVII.  SUPERSTITIOUS  TERRORS  ...                                       ,  207 


I]ST  THK  CITY. 


i. 

VARIOUS   EFFECTS   OF  THE   DISCOMFITURE. 

The  next  day  after  the  scene  at  Versailles,  the  bishop  of 
Meaux  was  talking  with  his  nephews  in  his  study. 

The  conversation,  as  may  be  imagined,  turned  upon  the  oc- 
currences of  the  previous  day.  The  bishop  and  the  abbe  were 
profoundly  cast  down ;  the  colonel  consoled  himself  as  was  his 
custom,  by  an  abundance  of  imprecations  against  all  who  had 
in  any  way  contributed  to  his  brother's  misfortune, — against 
the  missionary,  the  courtiers,  the  king,  and  against  God. 
Fewer,  perhaps,  against  God  than  the  others,  for  he  believed 
in  him  too  little  to  imagine  seriously  that  he  was  in  any  way 
concerned  in  such  occurrences. 

The  abbe,  in  spite  of  his  vices,  had  not  been  able  to  rid  him- 
self of  another  feeling.  He  had  certainly  not  yet  gone  so  far 
as  to  thank  God  for  the  lesson  which  he  had  received  ;  but  in 
spite  of  himself  this  lesson  had  made  some  impression  on  him. 
He  vaguely  perceived  the  emptiness  and  falseness  of  that  elo- 
quence which  he  had  heretofore  studied ;  he  understood  how 
far  he  was  from  being  a  Christian  orator.  But  as  he  felt,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  he  had  neither  faith  enough  to  be  one,  nor 


8  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

ardor  enough  to  endeavor  to  become  one,  he  passively  allowed 
himself  to  fall  into  a  state  of  complete  discouragement.  The 
only  person  who  could  have  given  him  a  little  hope,  Madame 
de  Pompadour,  had  refused  to  see  him  after  the  affair,  and  he 
knew  that  she  had  but  little  sympathy  for  those  of  her  friends 
who  were  unfortunate  or  awkward.  He  had  been  very  near 
sending  in  immediately  his  resignation  of  the  post  of  preacher 
to  the  king,  and  would  not  have  hesitated,  had  it  not  been  for 
his  uncle's  petitions  and  his  brother's  fury. 

And  yet  beneath  all  this  fury,  the  marquis  was  filled  with 
impressions  far  more  profound  than  those  indicated  by  the 
helpless  discouragement  of  his  brother.  His  mind,  more  im- 
pulsive, had  been  more  deeply  moved ;  the  more  hardened  he 
had  been,  the  more  he  had  been  shaken.  Yet  not  so  much 
shaken,  that  he  could  not  still  harden  himself  at  least  exter- 
nally. He  was  vexed  to  find  himself  capable  of  feeling  any- 
thing besides  blind  fury.  He  would  have  blushed  to  have  it 
perceived ;  he  blushed  to  perceive  it  himself.  But  some  few 
good  seed  had  fallen  among  the  thorns  of  his  heart,  and  they 
might  spring  up  better  there  than  in  the  dry  soil  of  his 
brother's. 

The  bishop,  a  courtier  more  than  anything  else,  regarded 
the  whole  as  a  court  mishap.  Bridaine's  sermon  appeared  to 
him  excellent ;  that  of  his  nephew  not  less  so.  "  All  styles 
are  good  save  the  tiresome  style,"  he  said,  with  Boileau  ;  an  . 
as  the  abbe's  was,  in  fact,  not  a  tiresome  one,  his  ancle  did  not 
aee  why  he  should  not  have  the  right  to  preach  as  he  thought 
best.  "  Come,  come."  he  said  to  his  nephew,  "  suppose  this 
were  a  real  failure,  which  I  do  not  admit,  what  is  to  prevent 
your  remedying  it  in  a  month.  The  king  will  be  there,  I  will 
wager  you.  There  will  be  a  crowd,  and  you  will  be  higher 
than  ever." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  9 

The  abbe  shook  his  head. 

"  And  to  think,"  cried  his  brother,  "  to  think  that  all  this 
has  happened  because  the  notion  must  seize  Monsieur  1'  abbe 
to  shut  himself  up  one  fine  evening  in  the  cathedral.  As  if  he 
could  not  have  done  just  as  well  in  his  chamber  or  in  the  chapel 
of  the  house  !  What  the  devil  was  he  doing  in — " 

"  In  this  galley !"  said  the  bishop,  who  was  acquainted  with 
Moliere,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  quoting  him. 

"  In  reality,"  he  continued,  "  it  is  more  my  fault  than  his. 
I  sent  after  Father  Bridaine,  and  it  was  I  who  brought  this 
poor  sermon  forward." 

"  No,"  said  the  abbe,  "  I  prefer  to  think  that  it  was  all  the 
will  of  God." 

The  bishop  looked  at  him  with  surprise.  The  marquis  burst 
into  a  laugh, 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  see,  we  are  going  to  turn  Trappist — '  the  will  of 
God  !'  When  are  we  going  to  don  the  cowl,  brother  Ange  ? — 
Poor  sermon !  It  little  expected  to  accomplish  such  a  fine 
conversion !  Let  any  one  say  now  that  the  sermon  is  worth 
nothing !" 

He  laughed  anew  ;  but  like  one  who  strove  to  forget  him- 
self. 

II. 

A  ROUGH  VISITOR. NO  ANSWER    RECEIVED   TO  A  PLAIN    QUESTION. 

It  was  announced  to  the  bishop  that  some  one  desired  to 
epeak  to  him  immediately. 
"Who  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  A  gentleman  who  would  not  give  his  name." 
"  Let  him  come  in." 
"  Ah,  good  morning  !"  cried  the  marquis,  hastening  to  meet 


10  RADAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

the  new  comer.  "  You  here !  You,  Diderot !  you  in  a 
bishop's  house  !  It  is  like  the  moon  in  a  well.  You  think 
you  see  it,  but  it  is  not  there.  A  shadow,  a — " 

"  My  dear  friend,  if  there  is  any  one  a  shade  it  is  yourself. 
I  met  a  man  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  Paris,  whom 
they  were  taking  there  to  be  hung,  and  that  they  told  me  for 
assassinating  the  marquis  de  Narniers." 

"  That  abominable  business  again !"  interrupted  the  bishop. 
"  What,  Henry,  you  have  not  had  him  set  at  liberty  1" 

"  How  could  I  when  he  was  once  taken  1  You  know  very 
well  that  there  is  a  decree  of  the  parliament  of  Toulouse — " 

"  And  you  will  allow  it  to  be  executed  ?" 

"  Bah !  we  shall  see.  Well,  Diderot,  what  pleasant  wind 
blows  you  here  ]" 

"  A  tempest." 

"The  deuce!  You  have  at  least  left  it  outside  of  the 
door !" 

"  Yes. — And  it  shall  depend  upon  Monseigneur  whether  I 
send  it  away,  or  make  it  come  in." 

"  Sit  down,  Monsieur,"  said  the  prelate,  "  I  have  not  for 
many  years  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you." 

"  For  nearly  twenty,  Monseigneur ;  and  my  visit  to-day  has 
reference  to  our  business  at  that  time." 

The  bishop  did  not  appear  particularly  pleased  to  find  his 
memory  so  good. 

"  Monseigneur,"  he  continued,  "  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
allow  me  to  come  immediately  to  the  point.  At  the  time 
when  I  wrote  your  mandates — " 

"  You  wrote  my  uncle's  mandates  ?"  interrupted  the  mar- 
quis. 

"  Why  yes —  Did  you  not  know  it  ?  Then  I  am  sorry 
to  have  told  it.  But — " 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  11 

"  To  the  point,  to  the  point,"  said  the  bishop. 

"  At  the  time  when  I  worked  for  you,  Monseigneur,  I  worked 
also  for  others,  for  my  pen,  as  you  know,  has  always  been  at 
the  service — of  all  trades — witness  a  very  nice  advertisement 
I  lately  wrote,  of  an  oil  to  make  the  hair  grow — " 

"  To  the  point,  I  beg,  to  the  point !" 

Diderot  knew  how  to  be  brief,  but  he  loved  to  torment,  es- 
pecially great  people.  For  that  matter  the  story  of  the  oil 
was  true.  His  style  was  marvellously  well  suited  to  appeals 
of  all  kinds,  and  he  was  frequently  called  up9n  to  write  them. 

"  I  am  coming  to  it,"  he  said.  "  Among  my  customers  of 
those  days  was  a  certain  Aubry,  a  priest  of  your  diocese.  I 
made  him  some  sermons,  arid  he  went  to  preach  them  in 
America.  So  far  so  good.  But  here  he  has  come  back,  and 
he  is  going  to  publish  them,  it  is  said." 

"  Well  r 

"  With  the  name  of  the  author." 

"  Then  their  success  is  certain, — an  extravagant  success — " 

"  Extravagant,  perhaps,  but  at  my  expense.  This  I  have  no 
mind  to  endure." 

"  How  can  you  prevent  it  ?" 

"  I  cannot,  but  I  have  the  good  fortune  to  know  some  one 
who  can,  and  this  some  one  will,  I  hope,  be  inclined — " 

"  Can  you  possibly  mean  me  ?" 

"  Precisely.  Aubry  still  belongs  to  your  diocese,  does  he 
not?" 

"  I  do  not  even  know  where  he  is." 

"  That  shall  be  no  hinderance  to  you.     He  is  at  Paris." 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"  What  then  ?  Why  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  see  that 
these  sermons  are  not  published." 

"  You  demand  that  in  a  tone — " 


12  KABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,    OR 

"  Let  us  change  it  if  necessary.  Will  Monseigntur  have  the 
extreme  goodness  to  condescend  to  forbid  the  said  Aubry — " 

"  Forbid  1 — Forbid  ?     He  is  at  Paris,  you  say." 

"  Well,  to  have  him  forbidden  then — " 

"  By  Monsieur  de  Beaumont  ?     We  are  such  good  friends '" 

"  So  you  refuse  ?" 

«  But—" 

"  Good.     Adieu,  Monseigneur." 

"  Already  1"  said  the  marquis.  "  Will  you  not  dine  with 
us?" 

"  No,  I  have  business.  Since  my  religious  works  are  to  be 
published,  I  am  at  least  determined  that  the  collection  shall  be 
complete." 

"  You  say  that  you —  ?"  cried  the  bishop. 

"  Monseigneur  promises  me  an  extravagant  success  ;  I  wish 
to  take  advantage  of  it.  Accordingly  the  collection  shall  be  in 
two  parts.  In  one  my  sermons;  in  the  other  my  man- 
dates— "* 

"  You  will  not  do  that !" 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  It  would  be  treacherous !" 

"  So  is  Aubry's  project, — and  yet  you  will  not  prevent  that — ' 

"  The  sermons  are  his — " 

"Yes;— 

"They  say  that  the  abb6  Roquette 
Preaches  sermons  not  his  own, 
But  I,  who  know  that  he  bought  them, 
Maintain  they  are  his  alone. 

"  In  that  sense,  it  is  clear,  that  the  mandates  are  yours. 

*  The  bishops  of  the  Romish  church  publish  annually  at  the  approach 
of  Lent,  mandates,  or  pastoral  letters,  which  are  read  by  tho  vicars  or 
curates  throughout  the  diocese.  [Tr.] 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  13 

But  I  have  no  time  to  look  so  closely  at  the  i  flatter.  So,  for 
the  last  time,  you  refuse  ?" 

"  I  do  not  say  so — I  will  try — " 

"  Try.  But  I  warn  you  beforehand  that  if  you  fail  the  man- 
dates shall  be  made  public.  Do  not  shout  about  the  indelicacy 
of  the  thing.  A  drowning  man  cannot  stay  to  choose  how  he 
shall  be  saved.  And  I  should  consider  myself  drowned, — 
drowned  in  ridicule — if  these  sermons  should  be  published." 

"  They  regard  neither  law,  nor  gospel,"  murmured  the  bis- 
hop. "  These  infidels—" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Monseigneur, — I  did  not  hear  exactly — " 

"  I  said  nothing." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  did  say  something.  Something  like  '  these 
infidels—'  " 

"  Perhaps." 

"And  these  infidels,  who  regard  neither  law  nor  gospel 
are—?" 

"  You  know  better  than  I,  I  fancy." 

"  Well,  since  I  know  them,  shall  I  tell  you  something  about 
who  they  are  ?" 

"  Let  us  hear." 

"  The  infidels  without  regard  for  law  or  gospel,  Monseigneur, 
are  not  those  who  do  not  believe,  but  those  who  pretend  to 
believe ;  those  who  live,  speak,  reign,  flourish,  and  persecute  in 
the  name  of  an  idea  or  a  thing  at  which  they  themselves  would 
be  the  first  to  scoff,  if  they  dared.  The  infide's  without  faith  or 
law  are  those — Listen." 

He  seated  himself  gravely  in  the  arm  chair  which  he  had 
just  quitted.  "  One  day,"  he  resumed,  "  ir  a  city  the  name 
of  which  I  will  not  mention,  I  chanced  to  enter  a  church.  I 
had  never  beheld  a  more  beautiful  'spectacle,  and  if  to  be  a 
Christian  it  is  only  necessary  to  love  music,  perfumes,  flowers, 


14  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAINE,     OR 

and  rich  tapestry,  I  swear  to  you  that  for  a  quarter  of  ai  hour 
J  was  one.  At  the  right  of  the  altar  under  a  canopy  of  velvet 
and  gold,  was  throned  a  sort  of  god, — a  man  so  gorgeously 
apparelled,  so  surrounded  with  homage,  that  this  temple  seemed 
his,  and  this  altar,  an  altar  to  his  glory.  Yet  I  saw  him  kneel ; 
then  taking  in  his  hands  a  golden  urn  in  the  centre  of  which 
appeared  something  white,  he  raised  it  above  his  head.  All 
knees  save  mine  were  bent ;  all  heads — " 

"  We  are  aware  what  high  mass  is,"  said  the  bishop. 

"  Excuse  him,"  said  the  marquis.  "  He  had  doubtless  never 
seen  one." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  will  be  brief.  In  the  midst  of  all  this 
pomp,  standing  alone  in  my  corner,  in  the  midst  of  this  sea  of 
bowed  heads,  what  calculation  do  you  think  I  was  making  ? 
All  this, — I  thought, — music,  incense,  lights,  splendid  vestments, 
honors  paid  to  the  principal  personage,  all  this  means — what  ? 
That  a  bit  of  bread  is  reckoned  to  be  flesh,  not  bread.  If  he 
who  presents  this  for  the  adoration  of  the  faithful,  believes 
firmly,  sincerely,  fully  in  the  reality  of  the  fact,  I  have  nothing 
to  say ;  if  he  does  not  believe  in  it,  it  is  the  most  abominable 
comedy  ever  played  in  the  world.  Well,  Monseigneur,  do  you, 
who  were  upon  this  throne,  receiving  this  homage, — do  you, 
whom  I  saw, — for  it  was  yourself, — presenting  the  host  for  the 
adoration  of  the  people, — do  you  believe  in  transubstantiation  ?" 

And  Diderot  planted  himself  before  the  bishop,  motionless, 
and  arrogant  as  he  knew  how  to  be  even  when  embarrassed, 
and  as  he  was  to  a  most  superlative  degree  when  he  was  em- 
barrassing others. 

Confounded,  horrified,  the  bishop  stared  at  him. 

"  By  what  right  1 — "  he  stammered.  "  By  what  right  do 
you  come  to — to — "  • 

"  Yes,  what  right  have  you  T'  repeated  the  abbe. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XT.  15 

"  Ah  !  you  too  !"  said  the  encyclopedist.  "  Come,  Monsieur 
le  marquis,  join  the  chorus.  Ask  me  what  right  I  have — " 

"  Yes,  what  right  have  you  to  come  and  trouble  my  uncle's 
peace  ?  I  suppose  myself,  that  he  has  never  seriously  asked 
himself  if  he  believed  in  transubstantiation.  He  saw  every 
one  believe  in  it — or  appear  to  do  so, — and  so  he  did  as  every- 
one else  did." 

"  What !"  said  the  bishop.  "  I  have  not  studied  the  subject  ? 
Did  I  not  publish— ?" 

He  stopped  short.     Diderot  smiled. 

"  A  mandate, — you  would  say  ?  I  remember  in  fact  that  I 
wrote  you  one  which  treated  of  this  subject.  You  furnished 
me  with  arguments,  it  is  true ;  but  since  I  was  able  to  develop 
them  without  believing  a  word  of  them,  you  must  acknowledge 
that  I  may  be  allowed  to  think  you  might  have  given  them  to 
me  without  believing  them  any  more.  Come,  Monseigneur, 
tell  me  conscientiously,  and  try  to  think  this  time  that  you 
speak  neither  to  an  encyclopedist,  nor  an  infidel,  nor  an  atheist, 
but  simply  to  a  man  of  sense,  conscientiously  tell  me  if  when 
you  are  there,  before  the  altar,  the  host  in  your  hand,  and  three 
thousand  persons  kneeling  before  you,  you  are  fully  and  per- 
fectly convinced  that  you  present  to  them  a  God  ?" 

"  A  God  is  everywhere.  Why  should  he  not  also  be  iu  the 
host  ?" 

"  Already  a  step  back !  In  this  mandate,  if  I  remember  aright, 
you  make  me  quote  certain  decrees  of  the  council  of  Trent. 
There,  as  you  well  know,  the  material  presence  of  Christ  is  taught 
with  hopeless  distinctness ;  and  any  opinion  tending  to  soften, 
to  spiritualize  this  doctrine,  is  as  much  a  heresy  as  that  which 
would  deny  it.  Accordingly  there  is  no  medium.  It  is  not  I, 
but  the  council  of  Trent  and  your  old  mandate,  which  repeat 
my  question.  Once  more,  Monseigneur,  do  you  believe  that 


16  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

this  bread, — although  you  cannot  help  perceiving  it  to  possess 
after  the  consecration  the  same  color,  form  and  taste  as  before, — 
do  you  believe  that  it  is  changed  to  flesh  ?  Do  you  really  be- 
lieve that  the  words  which  you  pronounced,  perhaps  carelessly, 
can  have  the  power  to  work  such  a  miracle  ?  Do  you  believe 
that  this  wine,  which  is  still  the  same  in  taste  and  color,  has 
become  blood  ?  Are  you  persuaded  that  a  body  once  the  size 
of  yours  and  mine  is  entire  in  this  host,  in  each  fragment  of  this 
host  ?  And  finally,  do  you  believe  this  body  still  entire, 
always  the  same,  capable  of  existing  in  a  hundred  thousand 
places  at  once  ?  Answer,  me  Monseigneur,  answer  me.  Say 
yes,  and  I  am  silent.  Here,  looking  at  me,  say  yes,  and  I 
swear  that  I  will  believe  you." 

"But— still— " 

"  I  want  yes — or  710." 

"  You  want  no  !     Do  you  dare  to  think — " 

"  Very  well,  say  yes  then — " 

"  Stop,"  cried  the  abbe,  "  stop,  I  implore.     My  uncle  is  ill." 

And  in  fact  the  old  man  was  in  a  state  of  terrible  agitation. 
His  face  was  crimson,  and  his  lips  and  hands  trembled. 
Diderot  rose. 

"  We  will  say  no  more,  then,"  he  observed.  And  the  abbe 
heard  him  add  to  himself,  "  He  did  not  say  no,-^but  neither 
did  he  say  yes." 

III. 

A    DIFFICULT   THING    FOR    ROMAN    CATHOLIC    PRIESTS    TO    BELIEVE 
IN    TRANSCBSTANTIATION. 

Have  not  many  priests,  in  the  secret  of  their  hearts,  made 
the  same  half  confession  which  an  infidel  thus  roughly  extorted 
froir  the  conscience  of  a  bishop : 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  I 

When  Luther,*  at  that  time  a  fervent  Catholic,  made  his 
journey  to  Italy,  nothing  wounded  him  more  deeply  than  to 
see  the  priests  secretly  laughing  at  the  miracle  which  they 
publicly  pretended  to  perform.  "  Bread  thou  art,  and  bread 
thou  wilt  remain,"  they  said  ironically,  in  a  low  voice,  at  the 
very  altar,  instead  of  the  sacramental  words. 

And  are  there  not  still  such  priests  ?  Do  all  believe,  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  that  which  many  did  not  in  the  six- 
teenth  1  We  know  not,  and  it  is  not  for  us  to  examine.  We 
will  not  even  say,  as  some  have  said,  that  a  priest  cannot  be- 
lieve in  the  mass ;  we  say  only,  (and  we  shall  certainly  be  so 
far  right,)  that  it  is  necessarily  more  difficult  for  him  to  believe 
than  others,  since  he  is  obliged  to  see  so  closely,  to  touch,  to 
taste  all  the  impossibilities  which  crowd  around  it. 

And  ought  he  not  to  be  terrified  to  find  the  very  smallest 
doubt  in  his  mind,  when  he  observes  the  importance  which  his 
church  attributes  to  this  pretended  miracle1?  The  mass  has 
become  the  summary,  the  centre,  the  most  important  part  of 
worship,  and  in  many  respects  the  summary  of  religion  itself. 
In  like  manner  as  Christ  is  declared  to  be  incarnate  in  the 
host,  is  Christianity  incarnate  in  the  mass.  The  church  does 
not  say  so ;  but  in  all  its  precepts  and  usages,  in  all  it  teaches 
and  does,  there  is  nothing  which  does  not  tend  to  nourish  this 
error.  The  mass,  always  and  everywhere  the  mass.  The 
mass  apropos  to  everything,  the  mass  to  gain  every  end. 
From  Rome  to  the  smallest  hamlet,  there  is  not  a  church 
where  the  building,  as  a  whole,  and  in  detail, — where  every 
thing,  in  fact,  does  not  proclaim  the  mass,  is  not  made  for  the 
mass,  doe*  not  exclude  from  the  very  first  all  other  ideas  save 
that  of  the  mass. 

*  What  follows  is  partly  taken  from  our  "  History  of  the  Council  oj 
Trent." 


18  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

And  all  this,  as  Diderot  said, — all  this  pomp,  singing 
illumination,  magic, — on  account  of  what  is  it  ?  A  morsel  of 
bread  which  is  asserted  to  be  not  bread,  but  flesh ;  a  miracle 
of  such  a  nature,  that  those  who  have  to  teach  it  are  precisely 
those  who  are  hi  the  most  danger  of  disbelieving  it. 


IV. 


THE     TWO     BROTHERS. LIVES     OF     SAINTS. 

The  bishop  had  left  the  apartment.  His  nephews,  after 
having  accompanied  him  to  his  chamber,  returned  to  the 
library ;  but  Diderot  was  no  longer  there.  He  had  left  a  note 
on  the  table,  containing  these  words  only : 

"  No  sermons,  or  else  look  out  for  the  mandates." 

"  What  a  man  !"  said  the  abbe. 

"  You  cut  a  sorry  figure  there,"  said  his  brother. 

"  Can  such  a  man  be  reasoned  with  ?" 

"  Reason  about  transubstantiation  !  I  should  have  liked  to 
see  you  try  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  it  is  a  thing  about  which,  so  soon  as  you  begin  to 
reason,  you  are  beaten." 

"  You  are  no  better  than  he." 

"  And  you  no  better  than  our  uncle." 

"  Well,  I  call  this  arranging  one's  disputes  in  private !  But, 
joking  aside,  do  you  know  what  I  was  most  afraid  of?  I 
trembled  lest  while  he  was  talking  he  should  happen  to  glance 
it  this  book." 

"What  is  it1?" 

"You  know  very  well.     The  Life  of  Saint  Tryphon,  by 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  19 

Father  Boidard,  which  has  just  been  re-printed  with  my  uncle's 
approbation ;  or  rather  with  mine,  for  I  gave  it." 

"  Yes,  I  have  9  >me  little  recollection  of  the  book.  But  why 
were  you  afraid  he  would  see  it  1" 

"  Have  you  read  it  ?" 

"  Are  you  jesting  ?" 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  read  it,  for  it  will  make  you  die  of 
laughter.  You  will  hear  how  Saint  Tryphon,  shortly  after  his 
birth,  distinctly  pronounced  the  names  Jesus  and  Mary ;  how, 
when  he  was  seven  years  old,  his  guardian  angel  appeared  to 
him ;  how,  at  ten  or  twelve,  when  he  went  to  his  devotions, 
the  fervor  of  his  soul  kept  his  body  suspended  six  inches,  a  foot, 
two  feet  above  the  ground.  You  will  learn  a  new  method  of 
corresponding  with  heaven.  It  is  only  necessary  to  write  a 
letter  to  Jesus  Christ  or  the  Virgin,  and  to  deposit  it  at  night 
in  the  wooden  hand  of  your  patron  saint.  Before  the  next  day, 
the  letter  arrives  without  fail  at  the  end  of  its  journey.  You 
may  even  hope  for  an  answer  in  writing ;  for  Saint  Tryphon 
had  a  number  of  these  miraculous  autographs.  One  day,  he 
was  taking  bread  to  some  poor  people.  He  was  accused  by 
some  wicked  persons  of  having  stolen  it.  He  wished  to  defend 
himself!  But  God  had  already  provided ;  the  bread  was 
changed  in  his  hands  into  a  bouquet  of  magnificent  flowers. 
A  hundred  years  after  his  death,  he  was  disinterred,  and  found 
fresh  colored  and  well  preserved.  Then  at  his  tomb  all  sorts 
of  miracles  took  place.  The  dead  were  raised  by  dozens,  the 
lame  cured  by  hundreds,  the  sick  by  thousands.  In  short, — 
but  here,  here, — take  the  book,  and  you  will  see  if  I  am  ex- 
aggerating." 

"  Oh,  it  is  quite  enough  for  me  that  the  book  does  so.  But 
you  have  there  an  hundred  copies,  I  think." 

"Two  hundred." 


20  RABAUT     AXD     BIUDAINE,     OR 

"  Wliat  are  you  going  to  do  with  them  ?" 

"  They  will  be  distributed  among  country  cures  and  convents." 

"  Not  to  the  women's  convents,  I  hope." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Why  not  ?  Well,  that  will  be  fine !  Have  you  not  read 
this  adventure  which  I  chanced  to  light  upon  as  I  opened  the 
book  1  Stay,  listen.  '  One  day,  when  the  saint ' — " 

"  I  know,  I  know !" 

"  Why,  Diderot  and  Crebillon*  never  wrote  anything  viler!' 

"  My  dear,  you  understand  nothing  of  the  matter.  I  tell 
you  that  our  devotees  will  be  greatly  edified  by  it.  The  in- 
tention purifies  everything." 

"  You  understand  your  subjects,  gentlemen." 

"  As  if  we  had  created  them." 

"  Do  not  say  as  if.  You  have  created  them  entirely ;  and  1 
will  not  compliment  you  upon  them." 

"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit !" 

"  If,  to  make  them  blessed,  you  only  require  this  sort  of 
stuff",  then  give  them  plenty  of  it.  For  sooth  to  say,  it  cannot 
be  difficult  to  manufacture.  But  since  it  is  only  for  the  poor 
in  spirit,  at  least  allow  people  of  sense  to  laugh  at  it." 

"  Do  I  forbid  them  to  laugh  ?" 

"  Not  you,  it  is  true.  Provided  they  do  not  laugh  too  loud, 
and,  above  all,  not  before  the  people  whom  you  feed  with  these 
fine  things,  you  willingly  permit  all  to  treat  it  as  it  deserves ; 
ai.d  if  perchance  this  scorn  reflects  upon  religion  itself,  you 
will  not  concern  yourself  about  that,  provided,  be  it  always 
understood,  that  appearances  are  preserved.  I  can  understand 
how  you  can  do  all  this,  since  you  believe  in  nothing — " 

*  The  younger  Crebillon,  author  of  immoral  romances;  among 
others,  "  Les  Amours  de  Zeokinisul,  roi  des  Kofirans."  (Louis  Kinze, 
roi  des  Frankois. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  21 

«  Oh  !— " 

"  In  very  little,  certainly.  But  explain  to  me  how  the  more 
pious  priests  can  also  n  ?,ke  themselves  the  hawkers  of  this 
foolery.  For  surely,  if  they  do  believe  more  than  you  in  the 
teachings  of  Christianity  and  the  church,  even  in  the  bread 
turned  to  flesh,  they  cannot  believe  any  more  than  you  in  this 
story  of  the  bread  changed  into  flowers,  or  the  man  suspended 
in  the  air  by  the  fervor  of  his  soul,  or  tne  letters  come  from 
heaven,  or — " 

"  Did  not  Saint  Paul  say  that  we  should  be  all  things  to  all 
men  ?" 

"  Saint  Paul,  my  friend,  according  to  the  little  I  know  of 
him,  was,  above  all  things,  an  honest  man.  I  have  heard  you 
yourself  preach  on  this  famous  all  things  to  all  men.  You  ex- 
plained it  by  showing  how  skilful  he  was  in  gaining  all  hearts 
by  his  goodness,  his  charity,  his — at  any  rate,  you  did  not  say, 
and  I  think  you  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  prove,  that  he 
ever  made  use  of  falsehoods  in  ever  so  small  a  quantity,  in  his 
method  of  winning  men." 

"  Other  times,  other  needs  !" 

"  Are  there  periods  then  when  lying  is  permitted  1  Upon 
my  honor,  brother,  you  make  me  play  a  singular  part !  I  fan- 
cied I  was  a  famous  miscreant,  and  here  I  am  advocating 
morals  !  I  have  often  lied,  it  is  true  ;  I  have  made  vows  of 
love  and  other  vows,  which  I  did  not  dream  of  keeping,  and 
what  is  more,  I  have  repented  little  of  my  pranks.  But  to  say 
coolly  that  lying  is  allowable,  to  call  it  openly  to  the  aid  of  a 
religion  asserted  to  be  true,  and  the  only  true  one, — that  is 
something  of  which  I  must  confess,  I  feel  myself  incapable.  I 
may  ha  ve  been  a  scapegrace,  but  I  never  could  have  been  a 
priest. 


22  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

V. 

SAINTS. MANUFACTURE     OF     SAINTS. 

T(  e  abbe  laughed.  It  appeared  to  him  really  very  amusing 
to  hear  the  marquis  talking  of  morals ;  he  did  not  go  far 
enough  to  see  how  hideous  the  system  must  be  which  revolted 
even  such  a  man.  With  what  a  cuirass  does  Catholicism  sur- 
round the  conscience  of  its  subjects !  For  in  our  days,  this 
cuirass  has  become  thicker  and  firmer.  Books  like  "Saint 
Tryphoh  of  Meaux,"  if  not  worse,  have  been  spread  abroad  in 
the  last  twenty  years,  by  tens  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  and 
among  all  the  clergy,  from  the  humblest  vicar  to  the  pope, 
there  is  not  one  heart  which  appears  to  be  revolted,  not  one 
voice  raised  in  protestation  ! 

At  last  the  marquis  also  laughed.  He  turned  over  the  leaves 
of  the  book,  and  his  eyes  fell  upon  tales  more  and  more  ab- 
surd on  every  page.  His  levity  as  a  libertine  had  calmed  his 
gentlemanly  indignation.  This  book  was  for  him  nothing 
more  than  a  collection  of  fairy  tales,  and  he  found  it,  as  such, 
axtremely  amusing. 

And  yet  it  was  with  a  gesture  of  disgust,  that  he  finally 
closed  the  volume,  and  threw  it  upon  the  table.  As  he  had 
turned  over  the  leaves,  beginning  at  the  close,  he  had  at  last 
arrived  at  the  bishop's  approbation.  There,  among  the  other 
praises,  he  had  read  : 

"  The  charm  of  the  narrative,  and  the  interest  of  the  epi- 
sodes, with  the  orthodoxy  and  piety  of  the  reflections,  assure 
to  this  work  the  favorable  results  which  the  author  had  in  view. 
We  accordingly  cannot  but  recommend  it  fur  the  perusal  of 
the  faithful  throughout  our  diocese."* 

*  It  was  nearly  in  these  same  terms  that  the  archbishop  of  Paris,  in 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  23 

At  the  gesture  which  he  made,  the  abbe  asked, 

"  What  is  it  now  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  You  certainly  have  a  spite  against  this  poor  Father  Boid- 
ard.  They  say  he  is  a  saint." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  His  life  will  undoubtedly  be  written 
also  in  a  hundred  years.  He  will  be  rewarded  for  the  pains 
he  has  taken  with  Saint  Tryphon.  But  what  I  just  saw  was 
not  bj  him." 

"  Ah !  the  approval  ?  It  is  in  fact  rather  strong,  but  the 
bookseller  offered  three  hundred  crowns,  and — " 

"  These  things  pay,  do  they  ?" 

"  As  a  matter  of  course.  The  approval  of  the  bishop  se- 
cures the  sale.  Why  should  not  a  part  of  the  profit  go  into 
the  bishop's  pocket1?" 

"  Very  good.  But  the  good  Fathers  also  have  their  part, 
eh  1  As  authors — " 

"  Ah  !  their  part !  It  is  not  necessary  that  any  one  should 
trouble  himself  about  that.  They  secure  it  themselves,  and 
all  the  better  because  they  seem  not  to  be  thinking  of  the 
matter.  With  their  vow  of  poverty,  they  finger  more  money 
than  we  do ;  with  their  vow  of  obedience  they  are  our  mas- 
ters." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you." 

"  We  must  have  them." 

"  And  why  not  abolish  them  f 

"  Child !  Are  they  aboliskable,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  The 
parliament  can  do  nothing  with  them,  believe  me,  nor  the  pope 
either.  The  order  dissolved,  the  individuals  would  remain  ; 
the  individuals  dead,  the  spirit  would  remain,  since  this  spirit 

1846,  recommended  the  Life  of  St.  KotsJca,  one  of  the  most  fabulous 
productions  of  Jesuit  literature. 


24  RABACT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

is,  .n  fact,  none  other  than  that  of  the  Church.  We  must 
have  them,  I  tell  you  ;  we  shall  always  need  them  or  others 
resembling  them.  They  are  somewhat  expensive  soldiers, 
sometimes  a  little  mutinous,  but  they  never  shrink  from  any- 
thing. Command  them  to  do  something  which  does  not  suit 
them,  and  if  you  were  the  pope  himself  they  would  find  some 
way  of  getting  off, — but  anything  which  suits  their  ideas,  you 
can  be  sure  that  neither  obstacles,  dangers,  nor  anything  in  the 
world  can  prevent  them  from  accomplishing.  We  recommend 
these  miserable  little  books  which  are  so  serviceable  to  us 
among  certain  people,  but  we  do  not  write  them.  A  Jesuit  is 
ready  to  dip  his  pen  in  anything  you  like  ;  ink  or  blood,  gall 
or  mire,  no  matter  to  him.  Nothing  too  high,  nothing  too  low 
for  him.  Have  you  some  interest  in  communicating  with  a 
peasant?  Send  a  Jesuit  to  him.  A  king?  Still,  send  a 
Jesuit.  The  pope  ?  again,  a  Jesuit  will  serve  you." 

"  Apropos  of  the  pope  and  the  Jesuits,  how  comes  on  that 
affair  of  Saint —  What  do  you  call  him  ?  Saint — " 

"  Eucharion.  But  do  not  call  him  saint.  His  diploma  is 
not  yet  signed." 

"  What  a  long  delay  !  You  have  been  soliciting  it  three  or 
four  years." 

"  Three  or  four  years !  When  I  took  up  the  affair  it  had 
been  going  on  for  more  than  twenty !  It  might  have  lasted 
twenty  more,  if  not  longer ;  but  thanks  to  Father  Pontcar- 
lier— " 

"  Your  agent  at  Rome,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  our  factotum,  for  every  bishop  must  have  one,  if  he 
wishes  to  obtain  anything  from  Rome  without  a  ruinous  ex- 
pense. It  is  through  him  that  I  procure  indulgences,  dispensa- 
tions, rosaries,  and  other  articles  which  have  received  a  bene- 


THE.  COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  25 

diction  ;  it  was  through  him  that  I   obtained   for  twenty-five 
livres  the  permission  not  to  read  my  breviary."* 

"  You  might  have  taken  the  permission." 

'  I  had  taken  it  in  fact,  long  before ;  but  I  thought  that 
would  be  better,  after  all,  to  go  according  to  rule.  It  gives 
one  a  certain  air  of  austerity,  of  scrupulousness.  When 
Bossuet  was  at  court,  or  at  Paris,  and  was  obliged  from  his 
health  to  eat  meat  on  fast  days,  he  never  failed  to  ask  permis- 
sion of  the  cure  of  Versailles,  or  of  Saint-Roch.  The  better 
one  obeys,  the  better  he  can  command." 

"  Well  thought  of.     You  were  saying — ?" 

"  That  Father  Pontcarlier  has  done  wonders;  but  no  money, 
no — saints.  He  has  just  now  written  me  word  that  there  is 
no  more.  Two  or  three  hundred  louis,  he  says,  are  still  neces- 
sary." 

"  And  you  will  send  them  to  him  ?" 

"  They  are  already  on  the  road." 

"  And  where  did  you  get  them  f 

"  Out  of  the  bishop's  strong  box.  But  we  are  expecting 
soon  to  have  a  collection  taken  up,  and  in  that  case,  we  shall 
soon  have  the  sum  replaced. f  You  do  not  know  what  the  ac- 
quisition of  a  saint  is  for  a  diocese !" 

"  And  did  Eucharion  belong  to  this  diocese  V 

*  See  a  tariff  of  1845,  copied  by  a  number  of  journals. 

f  Two  collections  of  this  kind  recently  took  place  in  France,  one  at 
Toulouse,  for  the  canonization  of  a  young  girl,  Germaine  Cousin,  who 
died  1660,  the  other  at  Marseilles,  for  that  of  Benoit  Labre,  dead  some 
sixty  years.  "To  arrive  at  this  result,"  said  the  circular  of  the  bishop 
of  Marseilles,  "  a  considerable  outlay  is  necessary.  The  sum  destined 
for  the  expense,  is  exhausted.  I  accordingly  make  an  appeal  to  the 
generosity  of  the  faithful  of  my  diocese,  in  order  that  they  may  aid  by 
their  alms  the  continuation  of  a  process  truly  interesting  for  France, 
which  gave  to  the  church  the  holy  person  whom  we  wish  to  place 
upon  her  altars." 


26  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  He  lived  here  at  least,  for  his  name  is  scarcely  French. 
He  was  called  Gutgnad,  which  means,  in  Germany,  Good 
Grace.  But  '  Saint  Gutgnad''  would  have  sounded  somewhat 
harsh  ;  '  Sain^  Good  Grace '  would  have  made  people  laugh, 
like  that  poor  'Alacoque,'  whose  suit  is  also  commenced.* 
Thanks  to  me,  Gutgnad  did  as  the  learned  men  of  the  sixteenth 
century  did  ;  he  translated  his  name  into  Greek  ;  he  became 
Eucharion,  which  sounds  well  even  in  verse.  This  alteration 
was  not  effected,  however,  without  trouble.  It  was  under  the 
name  of  Gutgnad  that  our  subject  had  obtained  the  first  degree 
of  saintship,  the  title  of  venerable.  '  It  was  unprecedented,' 
said  the  council  of  the  Congregation  of  Rites,  '  for  a  saint  to 
change  his  name  in  passing  from  the  first  degree  to  the  others. 
Money  banished  the  scruples.  'In  fact,'  wrote  Pontcarlier,  'a 
few  ducats  more  would  enable  us  to  change,  if  you  chose,  not 
only  the  name,  but  the  person.'  This  would  not  be  such  an 
astonishing  thing,  moreover,  as  one  might  think.  In  our  old 
chronicles  I  have  discovered  traces  of  four  or  five  Gutgnads, 
whom  tradition,  it  appears,  has  blended  into  one.  Our  future 
Eucharion  is  accordingly  a  certain  creation  of  the  reason,  like 
Hercules  of  antiquity,  formed  from  the  quintessence  of  several 
others.f  So  much  the  worse  for  him.  So  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, it  makes  no  difference,  provided  that  the  form  is 
there,  and  that  the  people  adore." 

"Adore?  I  heard  you  preach  on  the  invocation  of  saints, 
and  you  proved,  by  a  lengthy  disquisition,  that  the  church  does 

*  It  is  not  yet  completed.  In  1788,  it  was  about  to  conclude,  thanka 
to  the  edifying  efforts  of  the  bishop  of  Autun,  who  was  none  other,  it 
•will  be  remembered,  than  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand.  The  Revolution 
took  place,  and  the  saint  was  forgotten.  Gradually  his  cause  was 
talked  of  again ;  and  at  the  commencement  of  1848,  it  was  about  to  be 
taken  up  anew.  Poor  Alacoque!  Poor  people  1 

f  Many  of  the  most  popular  saints  are  in  the  same  case. 


^  THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  27 

not  command  that  they  should  be  adored ;  that  it  is  a  calumny 
to  assert  it." 

"  In  fact,  the  church  does  not  order  it,  and  the  heretics  them- 
selves do  not  pretend  that  she  does ;  but  we  are  obliged  to 
take  for  granted  that  they  do  pretend  it,  else  what  should  we 
have  to  answer  them  7  We  know  as  well  as  they  do,  and 
better,  that  all  these  fine  distinctions  between  invoke  and  adore 
do  not  hold  good  in  practice.  There  are  but  few  persons,  it  is 
evident,  whose  devotion  to  the  saints  is  not  a  real  adoration  ; 
lew  people,  very  few,  incontestibly,  who  confine  themselves  to 
invoking  them  as  intercessors,  and  who  do  not  pray  to  them, 
in  reality,  as  to  the  Deity.  But  if  these  people  like  to  do  so, 
and  if,  moreover,  it  is  a  salutary  restraint,  why  should  we 
rouble  ourselves  about  it  ?" 

"  Very  good.  But  what,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  this  reply 
to  the  heretics :  '  We  do  not  command  the  worship  of  the  saints  f 
You  do  not  command  it, — no ;  but  you  place  them  upon  the 
altar,  knowing  perfectly  well  that  they  will  be  worshipped." 

"  Monsieur  brother,  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  so  good 
i  logician." 

"  Monsieur  brother,  I  did  not  believe  you  to  be  so  Jesuitical." 

"  Good !  the  great  word  slips  out !  But,  my  dear  friend, 
wno  is  not  a  Jesuit  in  this  world  1  Many  are  so  for  the  per- 
dition of  souls ;  why  should  not  we  be  so  for  their  salvation  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  of  the  salvation  of  souls, — you  ?  Is  it  for 
the  salvation  of  souls  that  you  are  going  to  have  Gutgnad 
canonized, — Gutgnad  the  triple  or  quadruple, — Gutgnad,  who, 
hi  fact,  never  existed, — for  you  confess  yourself  that  he  is  a 
combination  of  I  know  not  how  many  monks  ?  Which,  pray, 
of  the  three  or  four  will  receive  the  petitions  ?" 

"  The  people  will  pray ;  that  is  sufficient  for  them.  They 
will  pay ;  that  is  enough  for  us." 


28  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"I  m iy  say  now  the  great  word  is  out !  Why  did  you  not 
begin  with  that  ?" 

"  Because  I  was  relating  a  story,  and  did  not  expect  to  meet 
with  such  a  caviller." 

"  Well,  finish  your  story,  then." 

"Without  further  difficulties  we  arrived  at  the  second 
canonical  degree,  the  title  of  blessed.  But  the  greatest  obstacle 
was  yet  to  be  surmounted.  It  is  indispensable  at  Rome  that 
a  saint  shoull  have  performed  miracles,  either  during  his  life, 
or  after  his  death.  The  Congregation  of  Rites  exacts  that  these 
miracles  shall  be  proved ;  proved,  you  understand  how, — that 
is  to  say,  they  may  be  perfectly  false  and  absurd,  provided 
that  the  responsibility  of  the  pope  be  protected.  It  is,  at  the 
same  time,  the  best  way  of  making  the  suit  last,  without 
appearing  to  have  any  motive  but  a  religious  conviction.  It 
is  sometimes  years  before  some  miracle  can  be  hunted  up 
which  is  wanting  to  the  prescribed  number.  More  than  one 
candidate  for  saintship  has  beheld  himself  condemned  to  remain 
forever  only  venerable  or  blessed. 

"  If  we  have  this  misfortune,  it  will  be  from  an  excess  of 
good  things.  Four  or  five  miracles  are  enough,  and  we  have 
more  than  thirty,  each  more  astonishing  than  the  others,  all 
so  prodigious  that  we  dare  not  quote  them.  WThere,  more- 
over, are  the  proofs  to  come  from  ?  The  chronicler  was 
awkward  enough  to  put  here  and  there,  '  It  is  said :'  his  testi- 
monials, in  consequence,  are  desperately  feeble.  I  admire 
Pontcarlier's  skill  in  this.  In  the  first  place, — laying  aside  the 
miracles  which  may  be  taken  up  later,  when  the  life  of  the  new 
saint  is  written  for  the  people,  but  which  are  decidedly  too 
marvellous  not  to  destroy  entirely  the  credibility  of  the  others, 
— he  only  cites  five  or  six  of  the  least  extraordinary,  those 
which  the  chronicler  thought  fit  to  assert  without  hesitation. 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  29 

Then,  from  some  documents  of  the  same  period,  he  has  brought 
to  light  a  few  words  which  seem  to  confirm  these ;  and  out  of 
all  this  he  has  manufactured  us  a  memorial,  to  which,  doubt- 
less, for  form's  sake,  a  few  little  objections  may  be  made,  but 
which  will  finish  the  affair.  Cardinal  Braschi  informs  my 
uncle  that  all  is  going  on  well — sano  ma  piano*  he  says,  which 
signifies  that  we  may  have  yet  to  wait  a  year  or  two.  Accord 
ingly,  to  inspire  us  with  patience,  the  pope  has  sent  us  some 
portions — " 

"Of  the  true  cross?" 

"Of  the  bones  of  Saint  Juventia,  recently  discovered  in 
Rome,  and  which,  it  appears,  are  the  rage.  A  volume  is  to 
be  written,  containing  the  miracles  of  all  kinds  which  they 
have  already  performed." 

"  It  is  a  superb  present,  then !" 

"  There  is  a  fragment  of  the  skull,  a  finger,  a  rib,  two  teeth, 
and  several  hairs." 

"  Mere  scraps !     What  can  you  do  with  such  things  ?" 

"  You  shall  see." 

"  And  this — Juventia,  who  was  she  ?" 

"  Between  ourselves  I  am  very  much  afraid  she  is  a  baptized 
saint." 

"  Well,  would  you  rather  have  had  her  a  heathen  or  a 
Jewess  ?" 

"  Profane  man,  you  understand  nothing  about  it.  We  call 
baptized  saints  those  to  whom  the  pope  has  given  a  name  be- 
cause their  own  could  not  be  discovered.  Do  you  understand 
now  ?" 

"  Yes, — I  understand  now — less  than  before.  How  can  it 
be  certain  whether  these  people  whose  names  are  not  known, 
are  saints  at  all?" 

*  Well,  although  slowly. 


30  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  It  is  kn .  wn  where  the  early  Christians  buried  their  martyrs. 
Accordingly,  all  the  bones  found  there  are  presumed  to  be — " 

"  I  see.  But  you  will  say  I  am  still  more  profane.  Even 
if  it  should  be  certain  that  these  were  the  remains  of  martyrs, 
is  it  certain  that  all  martyrs  were  saints  ?" 

"  But,  my  dear  friend,  you  question  me  as  if  I  had  began  by 
saying  that  I  look  upon  all  this  as  very  fine,  very  wise.  Once 
more, — I  am  only  relating  it  to  you.  If  you  find  it  tiresome, 
tell  me  so.' 

"  Well,— go  on." 

'•  They  go,  then,  from  time  to  time,  to  the  ancient  burial 
places  in  the  catacombs,  in  order  to  procure  a  new  supply  of 
saints.  Formerly  they  only  rummaged  in  the  tombs  which 
bore  certain  emblems  said  to  be  those  of  martyrdom ;  but 
they  have  not  been  so  particular  of  late.  The  bones  are  taken 
out  and  cleaned,  and  then  they  are  ready  to  be  sent  where  it  is 
judged  most  proper.  Demands  for  them  are  numerous. 
Nothing,  as  you  see,  need  prevent  the  satisfaction  of  all  these 
demands,  but  the  pious  merchandise  would  soon  have  lost  its 
value.  It  is  consequently  a  signal  favor  that  we  have  received 
these  few  bones,  baptized  with  a  name  become  celebrated  from 
its  miracles.  I  had  my  choice  between  these  fragments,  and  a 
skeleton  entire,  but  without  reputation.  I  hesitated.  This 
skeleton  might  become  that  of  a  great  saint ;  but — " 

"  What !     become  ?" 

"Yes,  it  has  been  known  to  happen.  When  one  has  the 
bones  then  the  story  may  be  constructed ;  the  pope  asks 
nothing  better  than  to  see  the  fructification  of  what  he  has 
planted.  Monsieur  Basquiat  de  la  House  managed  well  with 
some  he  had.  He  owned  a  small  estate  in  Gascony,  which 
produced  a  wine,  which  no  one  would  buy.  Do  you  know 
what  he  did  ?  Being  at  Rome,  as  secretary  of  an  embassy,  he 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  31 

had  one  of  these  bodies  presented  to  him,  and  christened  by  a 
name  venerated  in  his  part  of  the  country.  The  peasants  re- 
ceived it  with  great  pomp.  A  fete  was  appointed, — then  a 
fair.  And  the  wine  sold  well." 

"  Very  good  ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  more  taste  I  had 
for  the  worship  of  saints  and  their  relics,  the  more  I  should 
shudder  at  the  idea  of  such  a  mistake." 

"  Not  at  all ;  you  would  do  like  the  others.  It  is  now  two 
years  since  my  Juventia  has  been  invoked  in  Italy.  Who  has 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing  as  questioning  the  authenticity  of  her 
remains  ?  Free  thinkers  care  too  little  about  the  matter  to 
.speak  of  it,  and  the  opposite  party  are  too  prejudiced  to  trouble 
themselves.  Not  that  there  have  not  been  revelations  and  dis- 
coveries from  time  to  time,  with  which  we  could  well  dispense. 
Father  Mabillou,  among  others,  brought  forward  extraordinary 
facts.*  It  appears  that  it  was  not  found  worth  the  trouble 
even  to  read  attentively  the  inscriptions  on  the  tombs  to  be 
opened.  A  certain  man,  honored  as  a  martyr,  was  afterwards 
found  to  have  died  quietly  in  his  bed,  and  to  have  left,  accord- 
ing to  custom,  an  inconsolable  widow.  A  certain  virgin  mar- 
tyr, as  for  instance  Argyride,  honored  at  Ravenna,  was  found 
to  have  been  entombed  by  the  hands  of  an  inconsolable  hus- 
band." 

"  And  Juventia,"  said  the  marquis.  "  Suppose  anything  of 
the  kind  were  to  happen  to  her  ?" 

"  Be  easy  in  regard  to  that.  They  do  not  go  so  heedlessly 
to  work  now.  In  the  place  where  her  bones  were  found,  there 
was  no  inscription  whatever ;  but  in  a  neighboring  wall,  a 
crumbling  stone  still  bore  some  half-effaced  letters,  from  which 
they  made  Juventia.  Juventia,  according  to  tradition,  was  a 

*  See  his  famous  Letter  from  Eusebius  the  Roman,  to  Theophilua  the 
Frenchman." 


32  RABAUT     AXD     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

young  Roman  maiden,  who  was  persecuted  by  a  pagan  flither  in 
order  to  force  her  to  abjure  Christianity.  He  finally  stabbed 
her.  The  story  was  too  dramatic  not  to  be  seized  and  made 
use  of.  It  was  boldly  asserted  that  the  relics  found  were  those 
of  a  young  girl ;  the  miracles  soon  followed.  To  make  all  sure, 
the  inscription  has  disappeared.  So  behold  Juventia  in  full 
possession  of  her  title  and  honors !  More  than  twenty  cities 
have  her  relics  already.  Magnificent  shrines  have  received  her 
smallest  remains.  I  have  done  still  better.  1  have  contrived — 
But  come.  I  will  show  you  what  it  is." 

"  Come." 

"  I  forewarn  you  that  you  will  see  nothing  but  the  two  teeth 
and  the  hair." 


"  Come  in." 

VI. 

SAINT     JU VENTI A. 

In  the  midst  of  the  apartment,  upon  a  Roman  couch,  was  ex- 
tended the  form  of  .a  woman.  Her  face  was  not  visible  from 
the  door,  being  slightly  turned  towards  the  window ;  only  her 
hair  was  seen,  falling  in  elegant  disorder  over  a  white  neck  and 
a  velvet  cushion.  A  white  robe,  bordered  with  purple,  allowed 
the  display  of  one  foot,  an  arm,  and  a  part  of  the  bosom.  On 
the  breast  above  the  heart  was  a  small  but  deep  wound,  from 
which  escaped  a  few  drops  of  blood.  The  robe  was  stained 
with  it,  and  the  couch  also  appeared  saturated. 

"  Well,"  said  the  abbe,  "  are  you  satisfied  ?  There,  I  fancy, 
is  a  relic  the  like  of  which  is  not  often  seen  !" 

The  marquis  stood  confounded. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV. 

"  But  this  is  a  jest,"  he  said, "  will  you  place  that  in  a  church  ?" 

"Why  not  1" 

"  If  an  exhibitor  of  wax  figures,  should  dare  to  make  such  an 
one,  he  would  be  forbidden  to  exhibit  it." 

"  And  with  justice  ;  but  with  us  it  is  another  thing.  What, 
after  all,  is  our  object  ?  We  wish  to  render  the  history  of  a 
martyr  a  little  more  effective." 

"  An  imaginary  martyr." 

"  Imaginary  perhaps,  but  what  matters  that  ?  The  moral 
effect  will  be  produced." 

"  Moral — ah !  And  those  in  whom  this  interesting  victim 
might  only  awaken  sentiments — •" 

"  Of  wrhich  they  may  relieve  themselves  at  confession.  But 
tell  me,  is  not  the  idea,  in  itself,  one  of  the  most  ingenious  ?" 

"  You  see  that  I  am  admiring  it." 

"  Moreover,  it  is  another  invention  of  Pontcarlier.  He  even 
spoke  of  it  to  cardinal  Braschi,  who  thought  it  excellent. 
Heaven  knows  how  many  saints  will  be  thus  remodelled ! 
The  smallest  fragment  of  bone  to  insert — " 

"  What !  the  bones  are  in  there  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly.  Do  you  not  understand  ?  The  piece  of 
skull  is  here,  beneath  the  forehead.  Here  is  the  hair.  There 
are  in  all  nine  hairs." 

"  They  are  red." 

"  Yes.  I  shall  have  them  dyed,  in  order  that  they  may  not 
contrast  too  much  with  the  others.  This  finger  ornamented 
with  the  ring  is  the  one  in  which  we  put  the  finger  bone." 

"  This  hand  is  admirably  well  done." 

"Is  it  not ?" 

"  Where  did  you  find  a  workman." 

"  It  is  another  of  our  dear  Fathers.  They  do  a  little  of 
everything,  as  you  know." 


3  I  R  A  R  A  U  T     A  V D     B  U I  D  A I N  E  ,     OR 

"  I  did  not  know  that  they  modelled  in  wax." 

"  They  have  cast  cannons  for  the  emperor  of  China." 

"  That  is  true.     And  the  rib,  where  is  it  ?" 

"  There,  underneath  the  wound. — You  can  distinguish  :t. — 
Look—" 

"  I  think  I  see  it — but  what  color  is  it  ?" 

"  It  has  been  painted  rose-color.  This  was  necessary,  since 
the  wound  is  supposed  to  be  fresh.  As  for  the  teeth,  here 
they  are, — here — under  the  lower  lip.  Come  to  this  side  and 
you  will  see  them." 

The  marquis  went  on  the  other  side  of  the  couch,  but  when 
he  was  opposite  to  the  face  of  the  figure  he  burst  into  a  laugh, 
and  began  to  clap  his  hands. 

"That  is  it !"  he  cried,  "  that  is  it !  There  was  never  a  bet- 
ter likeness." 

"  At  last !"  said  the  abbe.  "  You  recognize  her  ]  It  is  a 
good  thing." 

"  She  consented  to  sit?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  she  did  not  know  what  it  was  for.  I  only  told 
her  afterwards." 

"  And  then  ?" 

"  She  called  me  idolatrous,  impious." 

"  True, — it  is  rather  strong.  To  put  upon  the  altar  in  the 
cathedral  of  Meaux  the  effigy  of  one's  mistress." 

"  Pooh !  my  dear,  three-fourths  of  the  Italian  madonnas, 
which  we  copy  so  untiringly,  were  the  mistresses  of  the  paint- 
ers. Raphael  never  saw  the  Virgin  any  more  than  I  have  seen 
Juventia.  If  the  Fornarina  is  adored  in  Italy,  Madeline  may 
be  adored  in  France." 

"  A  heretic !" 

"  A  Jupiter  at  Rome  was  metamorphised  into  a  Saint 
Peter." 


T n E    c o  r  R T    OF    LOUIS    xv.  35 

"  Very  good.  But  to  sum  \ip  the  matter.  A  legend,  a  few 
bones,  with  a  little  wax  over  them, — and  you  have  the  object 
before  which  your  people  are  to  be  called  to  prostrate  them- 
selves. I  confess  that  I  do  not  see  very  plainly  in  what  our 
most  holy  Church  differs  from  the  pagans.  Between  a  divinity 
constructed  from  such  materials,  and  one  boldly  made  out  of 
nothing,  where  is  the  difference  ?" 

"And  vhere  is  the  necessity  that  there  should  be  a  differ 
ence  1  Christian  or  pagan,  man  is  the  same.  For  six  thou- 
sand years  he  has  constantly  demanded, — like  the  Jews  from 
Aaron, — '  gods  to  go  before  his  face.'  Well,  here  are  the 
gods !  If  we  wish  to  be  followed,  we  must  certainly  appear 
to  follow  the  people.  What  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  at  me 
with  an  air — " 

VII. 

THE   MARQUIS   REFLECTS. 

And  in  truth  the  abbe  remarked  a  gravity  upon  the  features 
of  his  brother  which  was  far  from  being  habitual.  In  spite  of 
his  relapses  into  mirth,  as  for  instance,  when  he  had  first  seen 
the  face  of  the  saint,  he  appeared  to  be  thoughtful.  The  cynic- 
ism of  the  priest  revolted  the  heart  of  the  libertine ;  his  soul, 
benumbed  by  vice,  was  aroused  to  indignation  by  contact  with 
this  other  soul  so  degraded  by  hypocrisy.  It  was  indeed  the 
first  time  that  he  had  sounded  the  abbe's  ideas  in  regard  to  re 
ligion  and  worship  with  any  attention.  Until  now  he  had 
been  satisfied  to  look  upon  his  brother,  if  not  as  a  believer,  as 
a  man  following  his  profession ;  he  had  not  imagined  him 
coolly  giving  an  account  of  the  frauds  of  which  he  was  the 
instrument. 

The  discoveries  accordingly  produced  a  singular  effect  upon 


36  RAHAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OK 

him.  If  he  had  been  a  believer  he  would  perhaps  have  bo- 
come  sceptical ;  being  an  infidel,  although  he  did  not  become  a 
believer,  he  began  to  feel  that  this  could  not  be  Christianity, 
that  religion,  in  itself,  had  nothing  in  common  with  these  tur 
pitudes,  and  that  he  had  perhaps  been  wrong  in  not  seeking  to 
know  more  about  it. 

This  last  feeling  was  however  still  too  vague  for  him  to  ven 
ture  upon  its  expression,  especially  to  a  man  so  little  able  to 
comprehend  it. 

"  I  have  always  fancied,"  he  said,  "  that  I  had  no  great 
opinion  of  human  nature.  It  appears  that  the  priests  respect 
it  even  less." 

"  Because  they  know  it  better." 

"  But  why  then  are  there  so  many  fine  discourses  about  the 
dignity  of  man,  on  the  excellence  of  his  faculties  and  his  na- 
ture ?" 

"  Because  we  absolutely  must  have  grand  words  to  conceal 
little  expedients.  Two  ways  were  open  to  us ;  either  to  raise 
man  to  the  level  of  Christianity,  or  to  lower  Christianity  to 
the  level  of  man.  The  second  was  the  shortest  and  the  most 
certain.  We  chose  it ;  and  you  see,"  he  added,  casting  a  com- 
placent look  at  the  new  deity,  "  that  we  have  had  no  small 
success." 

"  No  more  of  that ;"  said  the  marquis.  "  Enough  and  too 
much  about  this  image.  What  is  the  original  about  ?" 

"  The  original  is  more  intractable  than  ever.  She  heard,  I 
do  not  know  how,  of  the  arrest  of  her  Bruyn.  After  having 
cursed  him  so  bitterly  she  still  loves  him.  As  long  as  this 
man  lives,  the  whole  thing  will  constantly  have  to  be  recom- 
menced. Happily  he — " 

"  You  are  mistaken.  This  man  shall  not  die.  The  injus- 
tice of  it  begins  to  weigh — " 


THE     COUKT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  3 

"  You  are  going  to  save  him  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"  After  having  him  arrested  not  a  week  ago  "?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  losing  your  head." 

"  Perhaps  so, — but  I  am  regaining  my  heart." 

VIII. 

THE     CEVENOL     IN     PRISON. 

While  the  iniquities  of  his  Church  prepared  the  marquis  to 
repent  of  his  own,  his  victim,  the  unhappy  Cevenol,  proceeded 
sadly  towards  Paris  between  two  horsemen  of  the  royal  patrol. 
They  had  contented  themselves,  at  Meaux,  with  ascertaining 
his  identity,  and  he  had  been  sent,  as  condemned  by  the 
parliament  of  Toulouse,  to  the  prisons  of  the  parliament  of 
Paris. 

Not  having  been  able  to  induce  his  companions  to  name  the 
author  of  his  arrest,  he  remained  convinced  that  it  must  be 
Bridaine.  This  thought  oppressed  him  more  than  the  recol- 
lection of  all  his  ills,  and  more  even  than  the  expectation  of 
the  torture.  So  much  baseness  beneath  such  compassion,  so 
much  dissimulation  beneath  such  frankness,  appeared  to  him, 
not  without  justice,  to  denote  the  last  possible  extreme  of 
human  wickedness. 

When  he  found  himself  alone,  chained,  upon  a  little  straw  in 
one  of  the  damp  cells  of  the  Conciergerie,  he  was  surprised  to 
feel  himself  calmer.  This  cell  was  the  haven.  His  adventur- 
ous nature  took  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  abandoning  itself  with- 
out a  struggle,  without  even  a  regret,  to  the  grasp  of  an 
inexorable  fate. 


38  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAINE,     OB 

But  his  was  not  a  nature  to  remain  long  in  repose.  This 
very  tranquillity  was  to  become  the  cause  of  torment. 

In  his  perpetual  impulse  to  turn  his  thoughts  within,  he  had 
involuntarily  begun  to  ask  himself  why  he  was  so  calm,  and 
had  felt  that  he  was  less  resigned  than  impassible,  less  submis- 
sive than  exhausted.  He  had  been  forced  to  confess  to  him- 
self that  the  thought  of  God  had  little  to  do  with  this  peace 
which  had  been  restored  to  him. 

Then  came  bitter  returning  thoughts  of  his  musings  and  his 
p">ace  of  other  days.  What  a  difference  between  the  present 
and  that  period  when  his  life  was  a  perpetual  offering,  when 
God  was  his  all,  when  his  earliest  and  latest  feeling  in  all 
things  was  to  seek  and  find  all  in  God !  He  is  to  die,  but 
stiffening  himself  against  the  terrors  of  death,  and  not  soothing 
them  by  holy  hopes.  He  will  give  up  his  life  without  regret, 
but  he  no  longer  has  the  feelings  which  would  render  it  an 
acceptible  sacrifice  to  God.  He  feels  that  before  everything 
he  ought  to  pardon  him  who  betrayed  him  ;  but  he  cannot  do 
so,  and  he  is  full  of  horror  at  the  idea  of  dying  with  hatred  in 
his  heart.  Then  he  too  has  been  a  traitor.  He  has  heard  him- 
self called  Judas,  and  this  voice  still  vibrates  in  his  ears.  If 
he  do  not  receive  pardon, — and  where  shall  he  go  to  seek  it—- 
he will  hear  this  voice  even  upon  the  scaffold, — until  he  reach 
the  judgment-seat  of  God. 


IX. 


A   VISITOR. THE    CEVENOL  S    HISTORY    CONTINUED. 

Two  days  after  his  arrival  in  Paris,  he  was  seated  in  the 
same  spot,  motionless  and  oroken, — still  wearing  out  his  heart 
by  this  struggle  without  result,  and  without  end. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  39 

A  sound  made  him  raise  his  head.  His  eyes  suddenly 
kindled,  his  hands  were  clenched  ;  and  the  word  Judas,  which 
weighed  upon  his  heart,  fell  from  his  lips,  which,  though  he 
smiled  terribly,  were  compressed  with  anger. 

The  door  had  opened,  and  the  prisoner  had  recognized 
Bridaine. 

"  Well,  my  poor  friend,"  said  the  priest, — but  he  stopped 
Bhort. 

He  had  not  distinctly  heard  the  exclamation  of  the  Cevenol, 
and  it  was  not  until  he  came  close  to  him  in  the  lightest  part 
bf  the  cell  that  he  perceived  his  countenance. 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  ?"  he  resumed.  "  Dost  thou  not 
know  me  ?  It  is  I." 

Bruyn's  glance  grew  softer  beneath  the  benevolent  eye  of  the 
priest.  A  thought — a  sudden  light — darted  through  his  mind. 

"  If  he  should  not  be  the  one !"  he  said  to  himself. 

Bridaine  had  understood  at  last.  He  was  astonished  that  it 
had  not  occurred  to  him  what  suspicions  the  prisoner  might 
have  had  of  him.  The  less  a  man  has  dreamed  of  being  a 
traitor,  the  less  also  he  dreams  of  taking  any  pains  to  appear 
as  if  he  had  not.  But  he  understood,  at  the  same  time,  it  was 
no  longer  necessary  he  should  clear  himself.  He  shook  his 
head  with  a  smile,  and  put  his  hand  on  Bruyn's  shoulder, 
repeating,  "  My  poor  friend !"  Then  he  silently  went  and  took 
his  place  opposite  him  upon  the  stone  seat  which  surrounded 
the  prison. 

"It  was  not  you, — God  be  praised!"  said  the  Ce\enol. 
"Who.  then,  was  it?" 

And  a  gloomy  rage  again  filled  his  mind. 

But  without  allowing  the  priest  time  to  answer,  he  again 
cried : 

"  No !  I  do  not  wish  to  know.     Wretch  that  I  am  !     I  was 


40  R  A  B  A  U  T     AND     B  R I  D  A  I  \  E  ,     OR 

lamenting  a  moment  since  that  I  had  some  one  to  curse  in 
dying.  God  has  relieved  me  of  this  burden — and  I  am  asking 
that  it  should  be  restored  to  me !  No !  do  not  answer." 

"  I  should  not  have  answered,"  said  the  missionary.  "  Calm 
thyself." 

"  But  why  have  you  left  me  so  long  in  this  error,  which  was 
a  perfect  torture  ?  When  I  discovered  your  name — " 

"  My  name  !    Dost  thou  know  my  name  1    Who  told  thee  1" 

"  And  the  letter  f 

"What  letter?" 

"  The  bishop's  letter.    The  one  which  you  left  on  the  table." 

"  Ah !  I  remember." 

"  Do  you  comprehend  now  ?  I  beheld  myself  betrayed  by 
him  of  whom  I  had  spoken,  without  knowing  him,  as  the  only 
man  in  his  church  in  whom  I  could  confide !" 

"  Listen.  Since  that  time  I  have  not  lost  sight  of  thee.  If 
they  had  not  brought  thee  here,  I  would  have  returned  to 
Meaux  to  see  thee.  But,  first  of  all,  answer  me.  Didst  thou, 
or  didst  thou  not,  commit  the  crime  for  which  thou  hast  been 
condemned  ]" 

"  I  did  not." 

"  God  hears  thee." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  Repeat  to  me  that  thou  art  innocent." 

"I  am  innocent, — of  this  crime,  at  least." 

"  Well, — finish  thy  history  now." 

"  What !  could  you  save  me  ?" 

"  Did  I  say  I  could  ?" 

"  You  will  try  ?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"  O  God !" 

And  he  burst  into  tears.     The  terror  of  death  seized  him 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  41 

again,  with  the  hope  of  living.  But  he  still  struggled.  He 
was  indignant  to  feel  himself  moved. 

"  Another  humiliation  !"  he  murmured. 

"A  suggestion  of  pride!"  said  Bridaine,  severely.  "  Wouldst 
thou  remain  immovable  where  thy  master  and  mine  shrank 
back  1  When  he  prayed  to  God  that  the  cup  might  be  taken 
away  from  him,  dost  thou  wish  it  to  be  said  that  thou  couldst 
drink  thine  unhesitatingly  ?  But  come ;  I  asked  thee  to  relate 
the  rest  of  thy  story." 

"  I  will  try.     Where  was  I  ?" 

"  At  the  sermon  at  Nimes.  Thou  hadst  made  confession  to 
a  priest, — to  me.  I  had  listened  with  indignation  to  the 
manoeuvres  by  which  they  had  made  thee  a  Catholic.  I  had 
given  thee,  not  absolution, — for  it  appeared  to  me  thou  couldst 
not  believe  in  that, — but  my  benediction." 

"I  remember.  What  good  it  did  me!  But  I  was  not 
worthy  of  it.  My  soul,  like  accursed  ground,  could  for  a  long 
time  only  bring  forth  the  fruits  of  shame  and  death. 

"  Thus  I  had  at  last  submitted  to  all  requirements ;  I  had 
disgraced  myself  in  the  eyes  of  my  brethren  by  my  abjuration, 
and  dishonored  myself  in  my  own  by  the  public  profession  of 
a  worship  which  I  despised. 

"  I  awaited  my  reward  ;  my  reward  came  not.  It  had  been 
agreed  that  Madeleine  should  be  restored  to  me,  and  every 
day  came  new  pretexts  for  deferring  this.  They  told  me  that 
she  was  so  happy  in  her  convent,  that  she  wished  to  delay 
leaving  it  as  long  as  possible,  until  all  should  be  ready  for  our 
union.  My  love  became  irritated  oy  these  interminable 
delays.  I  began  to  suspect  that  the  opposition  came  from  her 
side.  1  trembled  lest  some  new  baseness,  of  which  they  dared 
not  yet  speak  to  me,  should  be  the  price  for  which  the}  had 
resolved  to  restore  her  to  me. 


42  RABAUT     AND     BBIDAINE,     OR 

u  My  apprehensions  caused  me  to  meet  half  way  the  over- 
tures which  they  were  awaiting  an  opportunity  of  making.  I 
went  to  see  Father  Charnay.  I  fell  into  a  passion,  but  he  was 
not  the  man  to  be  insulted  when  he  was  certain  of  gaining  in 
the  end.  lie  heard  me  quietly  until  I  had  finished ;  and  when 
I  cried,  '  What  more  do  you  want  ?  Have  I  not  yet  done 
enough !' 

"'My  dear  son,'  he  said,  'a  man  cannot  do  too  much  to 
ensure  his  salvation.  You  are,  God  be  praised,  a  Catholic ; 
but  who  can  be  so  sincerely  without  wishing  that  all  should 
become  so?  The  greatest  obstacle  to  our  preaching  in  the 
provinces  is  Rabaut  the  minister.  Help  us  to  get  rid  of  him.' 

"  I  thought  that  I  must  spring  upon  him.  Betray  Rabaut ! 
I !  Apostate  as  I  was,  I  would  rather  have  been  cut  to  pieces 
in  his  defence.  Charnay  did  not  insist.  He  had  thrown  the 
dart.  He  doubtless  concluded  that  he  had  only  to  let  the 
poison  work. 

"  And  the  poison  was  indeed  about  to  work. 

"  I  was  perishing  of  shame,  impatience  and  weariness. 
Friends  and  relations  had  all  withdrawn  from  me.  The 
Catholic  leaders  granted  me  only  a  cold  and  contemptuous 
protection.  I  began  to  believe  there  was  no  more  hope, — that 
the  only  being  in  the  world  who,  as  I  thought,  was  still  dis- 
posed to  love  me,  and  to  share  my  disgrace,  would  never  be 
restored  to  me. 

"  Accordingly  I  returned,  in  spite  of  myself;  to  my  last  con- 
versation with  Father  Charnay.  The  price  which  he  had  set 
upon  the  release  of  Madeleine  still  appeared  to  me,  as  at  first, 
an  infamy  the  idea  of  which  it  was  not  even  necessary  that  I 
should  repulse,  so  impossible  was  it,  I  thought,  that  it  should 
ever  enter  my  head  to  carry  it  out ;  but  I  was  startled  to  find 
myself  wishing  that  the  imposed  condition  had  been  a  little 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  43 

less  unacceptable,  a  little  less  monstrous.  I  familiarized  my- 
self with  the  idea  of  another  blow  to  my  conscience,  provided 
it  were  not  too  scandalous ;  and  like  an  animal  tied,  which 
gradually  lengthens  its  tether,  I  gradually  enlarged  the  bounds 
within  which  I  should  dare  to  be  criminal. 

"  I  went  again  to  the  Jesuit.  Why  did  I  do  so  ?  I  did  not 
explain  it  to  myself;  I  obeyed  I  know  not  what  infernal  in- 
stinct. 

"  In  spite  of  my  transports  of  rage,  he  perceived  the  pro- 
gress which  I  had  made.  He  repeated  his  demand,  but  this 
time  positively  and  coldly.  I  must  betray  Rabaut  or  never 
again  see  Madeleine.  There  was,  he  said,  no  medium. 

"  I  fled,  cursing  him.  But  it  was  no  longer  solely  from  hor- 
ror of  the  crime  ;  it  was  also  and  chiefly  because  I  began  to 
waver  !  The  struggle,  however,  was  still  to  be  obstinate  and 
painful.  The  expiation  began  before  the  crime ;  remorse  it- 
self is  almost  a  feeling  of  peace  when  compared  with  the  tor- 
ments of  a  soul  which  foresees  remorse  and  is  terrified  at  it, 
and  which  hastens  to  meet  it.  Twenty  times  these  anticipated 
tortures  were  on  the  point  of  recalling  me  to  myself,  to  my 
former  days ;  twenty  times,  after  having  by  these  convulsive 
struggles  exhausted  the  little  strength  which  remained  me,  I 
again  fell  powerless  into  the  current  which  hurried  me  on. 

"  At  length  I  thought  I  had  found  a  means  of  escape.  You 
will  remember  that  I  had  only  become  a  Catholic  by  first  be- 
coming an  infidel.  Your  sermon  at  Nimes  had  reconciled  me 
with  the  faith ;  but  the  little  good  seed  which  had  then  fallen 
into  my  heart,  had  long  since  been  swept  away  by  these  in- 
ternal storms. 

"  Accordingly  suicide  appeared  to  me  no  great  crime.  It 
would  spare  me  one  of  which  I  had  the  greater  horror,  because 
I  beheld  myself  ready  to  commit  it.  Besides,  it  was  in  mj  eyes 


44  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAINE,     OR 

a  reparation,  as  it  were,  to  be  made  for  the  tears  of  my  former 
brethren.  They  would  blame  the  method,  but  they  would 
have  the  sad  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  away  from  them  I  had 
only  found  despair  and  ruin. 

"  Accordingly  one  day,  decided  that  it  should  be  the  last  of 
my  existence,  I  wandered  from  early  morning  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Gard,  and  strangely  enough,  in  the  intense  emotions  of 
a  last  day  of  life,  I  found  a  not  unpleasing  nourishment.  I  re- 
turned, in  thought,  to  my  pilgrimages  of  other  days,  when  I 
went  into  our  deserts  to  offer  up  my  life  to  God.  In  vain  did 
my  conscience  attempt  to  point  out  to  me  the  abyss  which  ex- 
isted between  a  sacrifice  and  a  crime.  The  resemblance  of 
the  emotion  in  my  eyes  almost  effaced  the  diversity  of  the  cir- 
cumstances. I  wished  to  taste  death ;  I  deferred  the  moment, 
not  from  fear,  but  on  the  contrary,  precisely  because  I  felt  no 
terror,  and  because  I  was  certain  of  being  quite  as  ready  later 
as  now.  I  decided  at  length,  that  at  the  moment  when  the  sun 
should  disappear  behind  the  mountain  I  would  step  by  step 
enter  the  river  whose  waves  shortly  after  should  sweep  away 
my  body. 

"  There  remained  about  an  hour  for  me  to  live.  I  seated 
myself  upon  a  rock.  The  Gard  foamed  at  my  feet.  The 
breeze  fanned  me  with  all  the  perfumes  of  the  shore,  and 
brought  me  all  the  murmurs  of  the  evening  hour.  Behind 
me  were  some  olives  and  pines,  from  which  the  birds  saluted 
the  setting  sun;  before  me,  solitary,  brilliant,  and  already 
seeming  larger  from  its  approach  to  the  horizon,  the  orb  which 
carried  with  it  my  life. 

"  The  shadows  lengthened.  Those  of  the  opposite  bank  al- 
ready took  possession  of  the  bed  of  the  river.  From  moment 
to  moment  the  waters  flowed  more  darkly.  It  was  my  tomb 
which  was  making  ready, — and  some  scattered  shadows,  al- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  45 

ready  ascending  the  rock  upon  which  I  was  seated,  warned  me 
that  it  was  time  to  descend. 

"  I  arose.  As  I  stood,  I  was  still  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
twilight ;  the  sun  granted  me  a  last  respite.  My  dazzled  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  it,  but  if  I  had  possessed  the  power  to  regu- 
late its  movements,  I  would  neither  have  hastened  nor  retarded 
its  progress.  It  was  necessary,  in  order  to  dissipate  my  last 
scruples,  to  abdicate  all  will.  It  was  no  longer  I  who  wished 
to  die ;  it  was  the  sun  who  commanded  me  not  to  survive 
him. 

"  At  length  the  summit  of  the  mountain  severed  the  disk  of 
the  orb.  The  sentence  was  pronounced,  I  bowed  my  head 
and  descended.  The  pebbles  rolled  from  beneath  my  feet. 
My  dim  vision  followed  them  mechanically  to  the  river,  as  it 
now  followed  the  sun  to  the  horizon.  Did  not  they  also  point 
out  my  path  1  What  could  I  do  better  than  to  give  myself 
up,  body  and  soul,  to  everything  which  might  spare  me  the 
trouble  and  the  crime  of  volition. 

"  Already  my  feet  had  touched  the  water — and  now  up  to 
my  knees  in  the  river,  I  only  awaited  the  last  adieu  of  the  sun 
from  the  mountain,  in  order  to  abandon  myself  to  the  cur- 
rent. 

"  But  suddenly  I  raised  myself — I  uttered  a  cry — I  re- 
coiled. There,  opposite  to  me,  upon  the  bank,  where  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  sun  had  until  now  prevented  me  fro,m  distinguish- 
ing any  object,— I  perceived  a  man  who  stood  looking  at  me, 
immovable,  his  arms  folded.  And  in  this  man,  I  recognized 
Rabaut. 

"  How  long  had  he  been  looking  at  me  ?  I  knew  not.  His 
presence  in  this  spot  was,  moreover,  nothing  extraordinary. 
Forced  to  avoid  the  thoroughfares,  he  was  most  often  to  be 
met  in  the  loneliest  paths.  But  since  my  apostacy  I  had  not 


46  RAHAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

seen  him.  Although  I  had  met  so  many  other  angry  or  sor- 
rowful glances  without  shrinking,  my  most  constant  appre- 
hension had  been  that  of  encountering  his ;  and  among  the 
miseries  from  which  I  wished  to  free  myself,  this  had  occurred 
to  me  this  very  day,  more  importunate,  more  poignant  than  ever. 

"  My  strength  was  at  an  end.  This  interminable  day  had 
exhausted  the  inmost  springs  of  my  being.  I  had  only  re^ 
served  for  the  last,  the  courage  to  die  ;  where  could  I  find  that 
to  live  another  moment  ?  I  felt  the  ardor  which  had  supported 
me  during  a  night  without  sleep,  and  a  day  without  food,  sud- 
denly fail.  My  knees  tottered.  I  sank  upon  the  sand.  A  few 
vague  emotions  of  terror  passed  through  my  mind.  Then, 
nothing  more. 

"  When  I  came  to  myself  I  was  lying  upon  a  bed.  I  heard 
voices  speaking  softly.  Upon  my  making  a  movement  a  man 
who  sat  beside  me  rose.  But  my  eyes  were  again  closed,  for 
I  thought  I  recognized  him  whose  presence  had  annihilated  me 
on  the  banks  of  the  Gard.  The  man  spoke. — It  was  another 
voice. — It  was  that  of  Father  Charnay  ! 

"  He  informed  me  that  I  was  at  Nimes ;  but  he  did  not  add 
that  I  was  in  one  of  the  houses  of  his  order.  I  had  been 
found  upon  the  highway  at  a  short  distance  from  Gard.  It 
had  been  perceived,  from  certain  indications,  that  I  had  been 
carried  there.  By  whom  ?  I  guessed  easily  enough.  Char- 
nay  was  impatient  to  know,  but  I  was  silent.  I  had  been  re- 
ceived in  a  village.  Charnay  was  in  the  neighborhood,  and  it 
•was  he  who  had  me  taken  to  the  city. 

"  He  never  left  me ;  he  overwhelmed  me  with  care,  and 
proofs  of  interest.  I  knew  him  too  well  not  to  tremble  at  his 
kindness.  He  never  approached  me  without  my  imagining 
that  he  was  going  to  demand  payment  for  it.  And  could  I 
doubt  that  this  payment  was  still  the  same  ? 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  47 

"  He  introduced  the  subject  at  length,  but  so  gradually,  that  I 
had  worn  out,  with  my  continual  apprehensions,  all  the  courage 
and  strength  which  I  had  regained.  I  was  besides  weakened 
by  fever.  My  nights  and  days  were  divided  between  tortur- 
ing sleeplessness  and  overpowering  langour,  and  in  the  inter- 
vals, the  faculties  which  remained  were  almost  useless.  The 
way  was  prepared  for  those  terrors  from  which  the  tempter 
may  expect  complete  success. 

"  He  commenced  by  himself  appearing  full  of  alarm.  He 
feigned  suddenly  to  become  aware  of  the  infidelity  by  which  he 
had  permitted  me  to  be  brought  into  his  church,  and  to  shud- 
der at  it.  I  perceived  him  look  at  me  with  an  expression  of 
anguish ;  I  heard  him  murmur  aside,  the  words ;  '  Lost ! 
Damned !'  One  day  when  I  awoke,  an  immense  black  crucifix 
was  before  my  eyes,  and  instead  of  teaching  me  to  hope  in  the 
mercy  of  Christ,  all  the  tortures  of  hell  were  described  to  me 
with  horrible  deliberation.  This  crucifix,  the  emblem  of  sal- 
vation, became  to  me  only  an  emblem  of  damnation.  The 
night  came,  and  these  terrific  ideas  were  mingled  with  my 
usual  delirium.  I  felt  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  flames ;  I 
heard  the  cries  of  the  damned.  Phantoms  came  and  went 
before  my  eyes ;  the  Christ,  motionless  upon  his  sable  cross, 
looked  at  me  with  flaming  eyes.  Was  this  but  an  illusion  of 
the  senses  1  When,  long  afterwards,  I  recalled  all  the  circum- 
stances of  these  terrible  nights,  I  felt  convinced  that  fraud  had 
been  used.  I  have  seen  more  than  one  Protestant  converted  in 
your  convents  by  means  of  this  kind.  Why  should  there  be 
any  scruples  in  regard  to  using  them  against  us,  when  recourse 
has  been  had  to  them  so  often  in  these  institutions,  against 
Catholics  themselves,  in  order  to  wrest  from  their  excited  im- 
aginations, vows  which  could  not  be  gained  from  their  heart  or 
their  reason  ? 


48  RABAUT     AND     BBIDAINE,    OR 

"  But  it  was  my  conscience  which  it  was  necessary  to  con- 
quer, I  must  be  brought  to  look  upon  something  which  I  had 
hitherto  regarded  as  a  crime, — as  a  meritorious  action.  My 
attempt  to  commit  suicide, — the  confession  of  which  Charnay 
had  succeeded  in  drawing  from  me, — served  his  purposes  won- 
derfully well.  '  A  great  expiation,'  he  said  '  could  alone  cleanse 
me  from  this  crime.  Ought  I  not  to  count  myself  happy  to 
be  able  to  profit  the  Church,  at  the  same  time  that  I  atoned  for 
so  great  an  offence  against  God  V  As  for  the  Church,  I  never 
believed  in  it ;  in  God  I  scarcely  believed ; — and  I  abhorred  the 
man  who  was  speaking  to  me.  And  yet, — I  listened  to  him, 
and  learned  to  give  myself  up  to  him.  I  had  ceased  to  will, 
and  in  some  sort  to  live  ;  I  mechanically  sought  some  one  who 
might  think,  act,  live  for  me. 

"  Must  I  go  on  ?  His  perseverance  conquered.  In  order  to 
expiate  one  crime  I  consented  to  commit  another. 

"  Accordingly,  scarcely  convalescent,  given  up  like  a  corpse 
into  the  hands  of  my  pitiless  master,  I  began  to  seek  the  means 
of  satisfying  him. 

"  Treachery  was  rare  in  our  provinces.  It  was  an  almost 
unheard-of  thing  that  a  converted  Protestant  should  betray  his 
former  brethren.  I  had,  therefore,  no  difficulty  in  discovering 
the  time  and  place  of  an  expected  meeting  at  which  Rabaut  was 
to  preside. 

"  It  was  in  one  of  our  deserts  the  most  deserving  of  this 
name.  I  knew  the  place  for  meetings  had  often  been  held 
there  ;  it  was  found  so  convenient  that  it  had  been  called  the 
temple.  Five  or  six  paths  led  to  a  little  plain  quite  surrounded 
by  rocks,  from  whose  summits  our  sentinels  could  see  the 
country  for  the  distance  of  a  league.  The  outlets  were  numer 
ous.  It  would  have  required  at  least  ten  thousand  men  to  sur- 
round us  with  any  hope  of  success. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  49 

"  It  was  not  accordingly  in  the  place  itself  that  it  was  deemed . 
possible  to  capture  the  minister.  But  I  knew  the  path  by 
which  he  generally  arrived  ;  I  had  many  a  time  been  his  com- 
panion in  it.  This  path,  winding  among  the  rocks,  seemed 
made  for  an  ambush. 

"  It  was  necessary  to  conduct  the  soldiers  thither.  This  was 
not  easy,  for  it  would  have  been  sufficient  to  give  the  alarm  to 
the  whole  neighborhood  had  only  one  been  seen,  even  within 
a  league  of  the  spot.  I  led  them  two  by  two  to  the  place,  dis- 
guised as  peasants.  In  ten  nights  and  ten  journeys  there  were 
twenty  lodged  in  a  tolerably  large  cave  which  opened  a  few 
steps  from  the  pathway.  The  colonel  was  among  the  number. 
He  was  not  willing  to  yield  to  any  other  the  glory  and  pleasure 
which  he  promised  himself  from  this  expedition. 

"  I  believed  my  task  finished,  but  after  the  last  journey  1  was 
lesired  to  remain.  The  soldiers  did  not  know  the  minister ;  I 
was  to  point  him  out  to  them.  I  implored  in  vain  to  be  spared 
this  hateful  task.  I  endeavored  to  escape,  but  I  was  prevented 
and  kept  in  sight. 

"  There  were  still  two  days  before  the  assembly.  How 
long  they  were !  From  time  to  time  I  succeeded  in  killing 
thought,  but  only  to  be  roused  again  in  a  short  time  under  the 
weight  of  a  terrible  anguish.  When  I  remembered  that  I  was 
there, — I,  formerly  the  example  and  hope  of  my  poor  brethren, — 
to  send  their  head  to  the  scaffold, — I  repulsed  the  horrible  idea 
each  time  as  one  repels  a  dream.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
dream  must  at  last  have  an  end,  and  that  I  should  at  length 
know  myself  once  more.  Yes,  I  at  length  recognized  myself, — 
but  only  to  be  inspired  with  a  greater  horror  than  ever ! 
When  through  this  grating  I  shall  perceive  the  first  beams  of 
my  last  day,  it  will  terrify  me  less  than  did  among  those  rocks 
the  dawn  of  the  day  which  was  to  behold  my  crime  accomplished. 


50  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  The  arrangements  were  made.  Several  soldiers  concealed 
twenty  paces  higher  up  were  to  close  the  passage  at  a  given 
signal.  At  the  same  moment  those  in  the  cave  were  to  come 
out,  and  the  minister  would  be  taken  by  the  two  parties. 
They  had  granted  me  permission  not  to  make  my  appearance. 
The  soldiers  once  out  of  the  cave,  I  could  slip  forth,  descend 
the  pathway  and  fly. 

"  My  tortures  had  already  commenced.  Looking  through  a 
crevice  of  the  rock,  I  saw  passing  within  ten  paces  of  me,  all 
those  with  whom  in  other  days  I  had  traversed  this  same  path. 
Men,  women,  children,  old  men  succeeded  each  other  in  groups, 
upon  the  rugged  descent  of  the  rock.  Few  spoke.  The 
greater  number  were  grave  and  thoughtful.  A  peacefulness. 
with  which  I  bitterly  compared  my  wretchedness,  was  visible 
upon  these  countenances  embrowned  by  the  fierce  sun  of 
Languedoc. 

"  An  old  man  who  had  been  hidden  from  me  until  then  by 
other  persons,  stopped  to  take  breath.  It  was  my  father !  He 
took  off  his  hat  and  wiped  his  brow.  How  much  older  he  had 
grown !  How  plainly  was  my  history  to  be  read  in  his  fur- 
rowed countenance  !  I  followed  with  my  eyes  for  a  long  time 
those  gray  hairs  of  which  I  was  to  be  the  disgrace.  He  hud 
disappeared  and  I  was  still  gazing  after  him. 

"  I  felt  my  arm  touched.  '  Is  that  he  V  asked  the  soldiers 
hurriedly.  1  looked.  '  No !'  I  replied.  But  it  was  in  fact  one 
of  our  ministers,  Paul  Vincent.  The  soldiers  stamped  their 
f.'ct ;  their  chief  himself  evidently  had  a  struggle  before  he 
could  let  such  a  prey  escape.  When,  however,  an  instant 
afterwards  they  perceived  two  others,  two  together,  '  Is  this 
he  1  which  of  them  is  it  ]'  they  asked,  almost  aloud ;  and  I 
thought  that  they  would  spring  out  of  the  cave  without  even 
allowing  the  pastors  time  to  draw  near.  '  No,'  I  said, '  neither 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  51 

of  them  They  were  the  pastors  Encontre  and  Guizot,  the 
two  names,  after  Ribaut's,  most  known  and  venerated  in  the 
province. 

"  I  scarcely  breathed.  Three  already  !  The  next  must  be 
Eabaut, — for  it  was  rare  for  more  than  four  to  be  present  at 
an  assembly,  and  there  were  more  frequently  only  one  or  two. 
Three  already  !  Suppose  he  should  not  come  1  Suppose  he 
should  at  least  come  by  another  path  ?  But  no.  I  felt  that  I 
was  to  empty  the  cup  to  the  dregs.  It  should  have  seemed 
almost  an  injustice,  if  after  having  been  able  to  consent  to  the 
crime,  I  had  not  been  condemned  to  accomplish  it. 

"  But  it  pleased  God  still  to  delay  the  moment.  I  was  not 
yet  sufficiently  crushed ;  I  had  not  yet  enough  tasted  my 
infamy. 

"  A  woman  drew  near.  She  walked  with  difficulty  ;  but  it 
seemed  as  if  she  regained  courage  as  she  approached  these 
mountains  where  she  came  to  seek  God.  This  woman  was 
my  mother. 

"  She  passed  on.  The  moment  drew  near.  A  few  of  the 
brethren  who  had  been  detained,  and  a  few  trembling  old  men, 
were  still  passing  by.  The  soldiers  murmured;  the  chief 
grew  enraged.  I  almost  began  to  hope. 

"  After  some  moments  of  silence  and  solitude,  we  again 
heard  steps.  I  looked.  A  terrible  rushing  sound  filled  my 
head ;  a  hand  of  iron  seemed  to  compress  my  brow. 

"  I  had  not  seen  him,  but  I  was  about  to  see  him.  Four 
young  men,  with  watchful  eyes,  advanced  cautiously.  It  was 
his  guard  on  these  important  occasions,  and  I  had  more  than 
once  taken  part  in  it.  He  smiled  at  these  fears.  '  One 
guardian  in  heaven,'  he  said,  '  is  better  than  four  here.'  But 
in  spite  of  this,  they  surrounded  him  with  this  active  care. 
Even  in  the  assemblies,  besides  those  who  kept  watch  for  the 


52  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

whole,  there  were  always  several  who  only  employed  them 
selves  in  caring  for  him. 

"The  young  men  passed  on.  I  perceived  him.  He  was 
twenty  or  twenty-five  paces  behind  them.  One  single  man 
accompanied  him.  It  was  Fabre  of  Nimes,  the  father  of  one 
of  the  four  advanced  guards. 

"What  then  took  place?  I  scarcely  saw  or  heard.  He 
was  vithin  ten  steps,  and  I  had  not  moved.  'Is  it  he  this 
time?'  said  the  colonel.  I  believe  I  tried  to  say  no.  My 
agitated  countenance  had  said  yes. 

"  The  soldiers  convulsively  grasped  their  arms.  The  colonel, 
with  one  foot  at  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  prepared  to  spring 
out  first.  But  suddenly  a  whistle  was  heard.  I  saw  Rabaut 
stop,  draw  back,  and  disappear  among  the  rocks. 

"  In  a  second  all  the  soldiers  had  rushed  out.  They  ran,  but 
Fabre  stopped  them.  Instead  of  escaping  with  the  minister, 
he  had  placed  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  pathway.  He 
shouted  out  that  they  must  pass  over  his  body  before  advanc 
ing  a  single  step.  They  sprang  upon  him,  and  bore  him  to 
the  earth.  But  this  had  taken  a  moment,  and  Rabaut  was 
already  at  a  distance. 

"  Many  of  the  soldiers  sprang  after  him.  They  searched  all 
'fle  rocks  around ;  they  ascended  all  the  eminences.  Twenty 
balls  awaited  him,  in  case  he  could  not  be  taken  alive.  At 
last  they  espied  him,  but  out  of  reach.  He  was  mounted,  and 
escaping  at  full  speed. 

"  I  had  remained  annihilated  in  a  corner  of  the  cave.  The 
joy  of  seeing  him  saved  had  not  destroyed  the  recollection  of 
what  I  had  done  to  betray  him.  The  hand  of  Providence,  so 
visibly  extended  for  his  preservation,  seemed  to  add  to  my 
treachery  all  the  horror  of  a  sacrilege. 

"  The  colonel  was  furious.     A  soldier  of  the  other  post  had 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  53 

been  perceived  by  one  of  the  young  men.  They  had  given  the 
alarm,  and  had  been  heard  to  salute  the  almost  miraculous 
flight  of  their  pastor  with  a  shout  of  joy.  The  colonel  was 
ready  to  run  the  soldier  through  with  his  sword  when  he  heard 
this  shout.  I  heard  his  imprecations.  The  soldiers  themselves 
seemed  frightened  by  them. 

"  They  brought  to  him  the  venerable  Fabre.  He  ordered, 
still  with  terrible  oaths,  that  he  should  be  kept  a  prisoner. 
'  Quick  !'  he  said,  '  quick  !  His  hands  behind  his  back.  To 
Nimes ! — to  Nimes ! — and  to  the  galleys  !'  '  Proceed,'  said 
Fabre.  And  he  held  out  his  hands. 

"  But  his  son  had  remained  near  him.  He  sprang  before 
the  colonel.  '  Not  him  !'  he  cried,  '  not  him  !  You  would 
take  him  to  the  galleys !  He  would  die  before  reaching  them. 
A  man  of  his  age  !  Do  you  dream  of  such  a  thing  1  Take 
me ! — take  me !'  And  he  had  already  wrested  from  the  hands 
of  a  soldier  the  cord  with  which  they  were  about  to  tie  his 
father. 

"  The  discussion  was  long  and  terrible.  It  was  not  only  the 
colonel  who  refused  to  listen  to  the  proposal,  but  the  old  man, 
who  implored  that  his  son  might  not  be  heeded.  '  I  should 
die  before  arriving,  dost  thou  say  1  Well,  be  it  so.  I  should 
escape  the  galleys,  but  thou  wouldst  remain  there  twenty 
years,  thirty  years.  No,  no !  You  must  take  me.' 

"  And  the  son  again  implored ;  and  the  soldiers  paused, 
uncertain,  moved. 

"  The  infamous  colonel  at  length  burst  into  a  laugh.  '  They 
want  the  galleys,'  he  said, — '  they  shall  have  them.  Take 
them  both.' 

"  But  he  had  not  concluded,  before  the  son  had  snatched  a 
sabre  from  one  of  the  soldiers,  and  placing  his  back  against  a 
rock,  cried,  '  Both  ?  Let  them  try  it !  I  came  voluntarily  to 


54  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

offer  myself.  If  they  wish  to  take  me  against  my  will,  they 
shall  not  take  me  alive  !' 

"  Several  soldiers  were  about  to  spring  upon  him  with  their 
bayonets.  The  father  then  cried,  with  tears,  that  he  would 
consent  to  the  exchange.  The  colonel  appeared  to  perceive 
that  his  honor  required  him  not  to  take  a  man  by  force  who 
had  come  voluntarily.  He  ordered  that  the  father  should  be 
set  at  liberty,  and  then  the  son  no  longer  resisted.  But  they 
were  not  even  allowed  time  for  a  last  embrace.  In  a  moment 
the  pris*  ner  and  the  soldiers  were  out  of  sight. 

"  The  father  had  not  been  able  to  follow  them.  He  had 
returned,  and  seated  himself  on  the  very  spot  where  his  son 
had  given  himself  up.  I  saw  him  ;  I  heard  his  sobs.  And  I 
wondered  why  I  did  not  dash  out  my  brains  against  the  sides 
of  the  cavern  !  I  have  heard  that  in  certain  countries  the 
assassin  is  fastened  to  the  corpse  of  his  victim.  I  was  there, 
fastened  to  mine.  But  it  was  not  a  lifeless  body.  I  must  still 
be  tormented  by  its  sobs  and  tears,  and  by  looks,  which, 
although  they  did  not  perceive  me,  yet  penetrated  like  burning 
daggers  to  the  depths  of  my  heart. 

"  Sometimes  I  was  upon  the  point  of  coming  out,  and  throw- 
ing myself  at  his  feet,  and  of  confessing  all.  It  mattered  little 
whether  he  pardoned  or  cursed  me,  provided  that  the  horrible 
secret  was  no  longer  sealed  up  within  me.  Sometimes,  on  the 
contrary,  I  found  some  consolation  in  the  thought  that  he  was 
ignorant  of  it,  and  perhaps  always  would  be,  and  that  I  alo^e 
should  curse  myself. 

"  But  of  this  consolation  I  was  soon  to  be  deprived. 

"  I  saw  the  three  companions  of  his  son  approach  him.  I 
perceived  that  they  had  observed  the  melancholy  scene  from  a 
distance.  They  took  the  old  man's  hands,  and  wept  in  silence. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  55 

"  '  And  do  you  know,'  said  one  of  them  at  length,  '  do  you 
Know  who  betrayed  us  V 

"  '  Be  silent,'  said  another.     '  Why  should  we  tell  him  V 

"  '  Why  not,  my  children  V  said  the  venerable  Fabre.  '  Tell 
me.  It  will  make  the  blow  none  the  more  cruel.' 

"  He  deceived  himself.  He  shuddered  upon  hearing  my 
name.  He  repeated  it  several  times,  and  I  saw  that  he  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  '  But  who  told  you  ?'  he  asked.  '  How  is  it  known  ?  Is 
it  certain  ?' 

"  '  Too  certain,'  they  replied.  *  It  is  remembered  that  he 
was  seen  one  night  coming  out  of  Nimes  with  two  soldiers ; 
and  the  next  morning  early,  he  returned  without  them.  He 
must  have  brought  them  two  by  two.  Come, — let  usgo  inhere.' 

"  I  had  only  time  to  conceal  myself  in  a  corner,  when  two 
of  them  entered.  They  were  Madeleine's  two  brothers !  The 
other,  I  learned,  had  remained  with  the  poor  father,  who  would 
not  enter. 

"  They  looked  through  the  cave.  The  fragments  of  food 
proved  the  long  stay  of  the  soldiers.  They  discovered  the 
crevice  from  which  the  path  could  be  perceived.  '  It  is  with- 
out doubt  from  here,'  said  one,  '  that  they  watched  us.  And 
who  knows! — '  He  paused.  'What?'  asked  the  other. 
'  Who  knows  whether  he  was  not  there  himself  to  give  the 
signal  f  He  appeared  to  shudder  at  this  idea.  I  saw  them  go 
out  with  precipitation,  as  if  they  feared  to  be  contaminated  by 
remaining  any  longer  where  a  traitor  might  have  been. 

"  At  the  first  rumor  of  the  event  the  assembly  had  dispersed 
and  the  crowd  fled  ;  but  as  the  departure  of  the  soldiers  was 
immediately  made  known,  many  returned.  They  wished  to 
see  this  place,  henceforth  so  mournfully  remarkable.  Fabre 
was  already  surrounded  by  friends.  I  heard  their  con  versa- 


&6  RABAUT     AND      BK1DA1M!.,     uft 

tion,  their  narratives,  and  then  my  name,  again  and  again  my 


name ! 


"  The  cave  was  full  of  people.  I  retreated  like  a  reptile 
into  the  furthest  recesses  of  my  place  of  concealment.  At  last 
I  found  myself  on  my  knees  in  a  sort  of  tomb ;  but  I  still  con- 
timu'd  to  hear  everything. 

"  There  was  a  great  movement,  followed  by  a  profound 
silence.  I  perceived  that  they  were  about  to  pray. 

"  A  well-known  voice,  that  of  the  pastor  Vincent,  pronounced 
the  usual  '•Our  help  be  in  the  name  of  God  f  but  in  place  of 
proceeding  as  usual  to  the  confession  of  sins,  he  repeated 
slowly  three  times,  '  Our- help  be  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  !' 

"  Never  had  a  preacher  said  more  in  so  few  words ;  never 
had  more  sorrow  penetrated  through  such  courage  and  faith. 

"  This  was  his  whole  prayer.  He  comprehended  that  each 
one  had  completed  it  fittingly,  and  that  in  prolonging  it  he 
could  but  weaken  the  touching  impression. 

"  He  accordingly  opened  the  Bible,  and  new  blows  were  to 
fall  upon  me.  With  terror  I  heard  him  begin  to  read  in  a 
trembling  voice,  the  history  of  the  Passion.  He  had  not  gone 
beyond  the  third  verse,  before  all  present  had  already  seized 
the  terrible  appropriateness  of  his  words. 

" '  And  then,'  he  said,  '  entered  Satan  into  Judas,  surnamed 
Iscariot,  being  of  the  number  of  the  twelve. 

" '  And  he  went  his  way  and  communed  with  the  chief  priests 
and  captains,  how  he  might  betray  Him  unto  them. 

" '  And  they  were  glad — ' 

"  A  repressed  murmur,  a  shudder  accompanied  these  words. 
You  would  have  thought  from  their  sorrowful  attention,  that  it 
was  the  first  time  they  had  heard  this  mournful  story. 

"  From  time  to  time  they  appeared  to  forget  me.  They 
followed,  with  silent  emotion,  the  history  of  the  Saviour's  long 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  5*7 

agony.  But  the  pitiless  historian  had  not  forgotten  the  traitor, 
and  his  name  mentioned  here  and  there,  as  if  to  cast  a  shade 
upon  the  picture,  every  moment  recalled  a  murmur  to  their 
lips  and  indignation  into  their  hearts. 

"  '  And  truly  the  Son  of  man  goeth  as  it  was  determined, 
hut  woe  to  that  man  by  whom  he  is  betrayed !' 

"And  further  on  :  'Judas,  betray  est  thou  the  Son  rf  man 
with  a  kiss  ]' 

"  I  thought  that  the  minister  would  speak  of  what  he  had 
just  read ;  but  what  could  he  have  added  to  that  which  all  felt  ? 
He  closed  the  book  and  joined  his  hands.  He  remained  a  long 
time  motionless,  his  eyes  raised  to  heaven, — then —  But  how 
should  I  attempt  to  repeat  to  you  his  prayer !  Ah !  you,  in 
your  pompous  cathedrals,  you  know  not  what  it  is  to  pray  in 
a  cavern,  with  captivity  or  death  before  you,  and  two  steps 
from  the  spot  where  one  of  the  members  of  your  flock  has  just 
been  torn  from  the  embrace  of  a  father !  And  I,  the  author 
of  the  occurrence,  found  a  charm  in  lamenting  with  my  vic- 
tims. Treachery,  remorse,  the  terrible  future, — for  the  mo- 
ment I  forget  all  these.  I  lived  again  the  life  of  two  years 
back  ;  I  had  again  found  my  ardor,  my  faith,  my  purity  of 
other  days.  I  should  have  been  able,  I  felt,  to  conclude  this 
prayer,  so  eloquently  begun.  And  I  was  only  aroused  to  my 
misery  by  hearing  him  pray  for  me. 

"  They  went  away.  I  had  longed  for  this  moment,  and  now 
jhat  it  was  come,  I  trembled.  I  was  afraid.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  been  present  at  my  own  burial,  and  that  the  crowd 
left  me  alone,  cold,  in  a  corner  of  the  grave-yard. 

"  At  length  I  quitted  the  cave.  The  day  had  begun  to  de- 
cline. 1  awaited  the  night  in  order  to  depart ;  but  I  could  not 
prevail  upon  myself  to  follow  the  pathway.  I  gained  the  high 
road  by  climbing  over  the  rocks. 


58  RABAUT     AND     niilDAIXE,     OK 

"Since  my  illness  I  had  remained  in  the  house  of  the  Jesuits. 
Upon  going  in  I  desired  to  see  Charnay.  He  refused  to  see 
me,  and  the  next  day  it  was  signified  to  me  that  I  must  leave 
the  house.  I  learned  that  the  colonel  had  charged  upon  me 
the  ill  success  of  the  expedition,  and  they  desired  nothing  bet- 
ter than  not  to  be  obliged  to  pay  me  for  my  services.  I  was 
a  poor  traitor ;  these  gentlemen  do  not  like  half-way  blows. 
When  I  ventured  again  to  speak  of  Madeleine,  they  laughed 
at  me,  and  I  could  see  plainly  that  they  had  never  intended  to 
restore  her  to  me. 

"The  event  had  caused  a  great  sensation  throughout  the 
country.  The  duke  de  Mirepoix,  governor  of  Languedoc,  of- 
fered to  release  young  Fabre  from  his  sentence  to  the  galleys, 
upon  condition  that  Rabaut  should  quit  the  country.  Fabre 
had  written  to  him  imploring  him  to  refuse ;  the  pastor  had 
replied,  with  the  unanimous  approbation  of  the  churches,  that 
nothing  in  the  world  would  induce  him  to  abandon  his  flock. 
Fabre  had  been  sent  to  Toulon. 

"I  no  longer  dared  show  myself;  the  very  children  had 
learned  to  turn  away  from  me.  I  must  die,  or  expatriate 
myself.  I  no  longer  thought  of  dying.  I  felt  myself  con- 
demned to  live,  and  condemned  in  such  sort,  that  it  would 
have  been  useless  to  rebel  against  the  decree.  I  resolved  ac- 
cordingly to  depart.  I  had  already  thought  of  this  when  I  be- 
lieved that  Madeleine  was  to  be  restored  to  me.  I  had  wished 
to  take  her  with  me  in  order  to  seek  a  repose  which  she,  I 
thought,  as  well  as  myself,  could  no  longer  find  in  our  native 
land. 

"  I  had,  as  a  converted  Protestant,  the  odious  right  to  force 
my  father  to  provide  me  with  the  means  of  existence  inde- 
pendent of  him.*  I  wrote  him  declaring  that  I  had  no  inten- 
*  Edict  of  June  17th,  1681. 


THE     COURT     OF     I.OUIS     XV.  59 

tion  of  using  this  right,  and  that  I  would  rather  die  of  hinger; 
but  I  asked,  as  an  alms,  some  money  for  the  voyage. 

"  He  sent  me  what  I  had  requested,  but  without  a  word  of 
reply.  I  was  prepared  for  reproaches,  but  this  mute  curse 
caused  me  more  tears  than  I  had  yet  shed. 

"  I  set  eut  for  Bordeaux,  from  whence  I  intended  leaving  for 
the  colonies.  I  was  only  obliged  to  stop  in  Toulouse  long 
enough  to  draw  from  a  merchant  of  that  place  the  amount  of 
the  note  which  I  had  received  from  my  father. 

"  This  merchant,  one  Galas,  was  one  of  the  most  respectable 
and  esteemed  Protestants  in  the  counti'y.  He  received  me 
before  he  knew  me,  with  a  kindness  which  almost  surprised 
me,  for  I  felt  as  if  my  history  must  be  written  on  my  counte- 
nance. But  he  had  scarcely  read  my  name  before  a  sorrowful 
amazement  became  visible  on  his  face.  He  began  silently  to 
count  out  the  money  ;  his  hand  trembled.  At  length  he  asked 
me,  hesitatingly,  whether  I  was  a  relative  of  him  whose  abjura- 
tion,— he  ventured  to  go  no  further, — had  lately  caused  such  a 
sensation.  I  cast  down  my  eyes.  He  sighed,  and  asked  after 
my  father.  '  He  is  as  well,'  I  answered,  '  as  he  can  be  after — ' 
I  did  not  finish.  '  Yes,'  he  said,  '  I  know  what  it  is  to  lose  a 
son.'  '  One  of  your  sons  has  abjured  ?'  I  cried.  He  under- 
stood that  I  rejoiced  at  this  news,  as  one  rejoices  to  find  a  com- 
panion in  misery.  He  gave  me  the  address  of  his  son,  adding 
that  he  rarely  saw  him,  although  he  had  never  ceased  to  love 
him.  It  was  a  delicate  method  of  letting  me  know  that  I  did 
not  inspire  him  with  hatred.  I  admired  a  charity  which  was 
too  elevated  for  such  an  aversion  ;  I  compared  it,  involuntarily, 
with  the  blind  hatred  so  generally  felt  among  you  for  the  de- 
serters from  your  church. 

"  I  went  accordingly  to  seek  Louis  Galas,  but  I  found  in  him 
a  gloomy  bigot,  whose  conversation  destroyed  the  little  catho- 


60  RABATT      AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

licity  which  I  had  retained  when  with  the  Jesuits.     ITe  corn 
plctcd  my  disgust  by  taking  a  high  tone,  in  opposition  to  me, 
for  the  defence  of  my  conduct.     lie  was  not  far  from  con- 
gratulating me  upon  having  had  occasion  to  raise  myself  in  so 
holy  a  cause  above  the  vulgar  laws  of  conscience  and  honor. 

"I  made,  however,  the  acquaintance  of  his  elder  brother,  Mark 
Antony,  whose  character  and  sentiments  were  singularly  ana- 
logous to  mine.  An  infidel,  if  he  had  not  abjured,  it  was  only 
from  regard  for  public  opinion,  and  precisely  too  on  account 
of  the  advantages  offered  by  an  abjuration.  We,  in  our  far  off 
mountains,  imagined  the  Protestants  of  the  large  cities  much 
happier  than  ourselves.  It  is  true  that  you  leave  them  more 
undisturbed  ;  but  how  many  privations,  how  many  bitternesses 
are  there,  which  we  did  not  suspect,  and  of  which  they  expe- 
rienced and  do  now  experience  the  maddening  influence  !  They 
are  allowed  to  enrich  themselves  by  commerce,  and  many  in- 
deed, by  means  of  their  strict  probity,*  do  this  ;  but  to  those 
who  desire  more  than  money,  the  path  is  blocked  up  on 
whichever  side  they  turn.  The  magistracy,  the  bar,  instruction, 
medicine,  offices  of  all  kinds,  the  smallest  as  well  as  the 
greatest,  are  inexorably  denied  them  ;  the  only  thing  open  to 
them,  besides  commerce,  is  that  rude  and  laborious  ministry 
in  which  at  each  step  they  stumble  on  the  scaffold  of  some  one 
of  their  predecessors.  But  in  the  cities  few  possess  the  courage 

*  Rulhiere,  in  lii«  "  h's/ilanations  of  the  Revocation  of  ike  Edict  of 
A'linf'-x,"  m.ik«-s  :i  somewhat  curious  remark.  It  is  that  during  the  first 
half  of  the  rei^u  of  Louis  XIV.,  satires  and  comedies  made  no  attacks 
whatever  on  the  financiers,  so  cried  down  shortly  afterwards.  Now  dur- 
ing this  period,  the  majority  of  them  were  Protestants, 

This  financial  and  commercial  probity  must,  moreover  have  been  sin 
gularly  well  established,  since  at  the  height  of  the  subsequent  persecu- 
tions, when  calumny  was  so  commonly  brought  to  the  aid  of  violence 
this  subject  was  never  touched  upon. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  61 

and  strength  to  enter  upon  this.  They  must  have  been  accus 
tomed  from  childhood  to  this  rude  and  wandering  life ;  they 
must  have  gradually  become  accustomed  to  this  daily  and 
hourly  peril. 

"  The  elder  Calas  would  have  had  as  much  courage  as  any  one 
I  believe ;  but  he  had  not  felt  himself  fit  for  so  solemn  a  call- 
ing, and  had  from  conscientious  scruples  given  up  the  studies 
to  be  gone  through  for  the  ministry.  Full  of  talent  and  ambi- 
tion, abhorring  the  obscure  toils  of  commerce,  he  had  seen 
himself  condemned  to  vegetate  without  position,  without  future, 
in  the  old  paternal  country  house.  Idleness  had  encouraged 
vice,  vice  infidelity.  A  thousand  new  torments  had  filled  the 
fatal  void  of  his  existence.  Accordingly,  as  I  soon  saw,  he 
cherished  the  design  to  free  himself  from  it  as  soon  as  he  should 
become  decidedly  weary  of  its  weight. 

"  Such  was  Mark  Antony  at  the  time  when  I  knew  him.  In 
a  few  days  I  was  his  best  friend.  He  persuaded  me  to  remain 
at  Toulouse.  There  was  no  need  that  I  should  banish  myself, 
he  said.  I  could  easily  live  unknown  in  so  populous  a  city. 
I  had  only  to  change  my  name. 

"  The  idea  began  to  please  me.  I  asked  nothing  better  than 
to  stay  ;  but  I  must  live,  and  how  ?  '  Bah  !'  replied  Calas  ;  '  in 
a  city  one  can  always  live.'  I  insisted.  At  last,  he  informed 
me  of  a  resource,  which,  as  he  said,  had  never  yet  failed  him. 
It  was  gaming.  '  Gaming  !'  I  cried ;  '  and  if  I  should  lose  ?' 
'  You  will  not  lose,'  he  said.  '  But  if  I  should  ?'  I  repeated. 
'  If  you  lose  ?  Well,  you  can  do — what  many  others  have 
done, — what  I  shall  also  do  when  I  lose.' 

"  He  startled  me  and  I  allowed  myself  to  be  led.  I  sur- 
rendered myself  to  vice  as  I  had  to  fanaticism,  without  passion, 
without  taste.  It  seemed  if  I  had  coldly  taken  the  part  of  exe 
iutor  of  some  inexorable  decree  pronounced  against  me. 


62  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Yet  it  was  not  without  a  strong  emotion,  that  for  the  first 
time  I  crossed  the  threshold  of  a  gaming  house.  I  recalled  with 
horror  all  I  had  heard  related  of  these  dens,  where  so  many 
have  left  their  fortune,  their  honor,  their  life.  The  recollec- 
tions of  virtue  caused  a  last  attempt  to  arrest  myself  upon  the 
verge  of  the  abyss  of  vice. 

"  It  was  in  vain ;  but  vice  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  dazzling  me,  even  at  the  moment  when  I  gave  myself 
up  entirely  to  its  dominion.  The  first  day — I  said  to  myself, — 
I  shall  gain  ;  the  second,  I  shall  lose  ;  the  third — we  shall  see. 
And  in  fact,  I  gained  on  the  first  day,  I  lost  on  the  second,  and 
on  the  third  I  returned  ready  to  stake  all  that  remained. 

"  Whilst  I  awaited  my  turn,  my  attention  was  suddenly  at- 
tracted by  a  too  well-known  voice, — that  of  the  colonel.  He 
was  in  a  neighboring  saloon,  where  were  accustomed  to  sup, 
after  the  games  were  over,  all  the  most  abandoned  of  both 
sexes  in  Toulouse.  Without  being  seen  myself,  I  could  see 
him  haranging  in  the  midst  of  a  group  ;  it  even  seemed  to  me 
that  I  heard  my  name. 

"  I  gradually  drew  nearer.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  relating 
his  last  campaign,  as  he  said,  and  his  ambuscade  in  the  desert. 
He  was  just  completing  the  account  of  Rabaut's  escape,  and 
how  he  had  taken  Fabre  instead  of  Rabaut,  and  finally  the  son 
instead  of  the  father.  The  audience  laughed,  and  the  history 
as  he  related  it,  was  not  far  from  being  exceedingly  amusing. 

"  But  when  the  audience  thinking  that  he  had  finished,  began 
to  disperse,  he  said;  '  Do  you  think  I  have  finished  ?  You  have 
not  yet  heard  the  most  curious  part.'  They  all  returned.  I 
slipped  through  the  crowd  within  three  steps  of  him. 

"  '  You  remember,'  he  resumed,  '  the  poor  simpleton  whom 
we  persuaded  by  means  of  the  name  of  his  Madeleine  to  do 
everyt)  ing  we  wished.  The  bet;t  of  the  joke  is,  that  while  we 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  Go 

led  him  on  by  talking  of  her,  we  led  her  also,  but  in  a  very 
different  path,  as  you  will  see,  by  talking  of  him.' 

"  And  then,  to  the  great  amusement  of  my  neighbors,  was 
described  the  abominable  plot  which  I  might  have  suspected, 
but  which  I  never  could  have  suspected  to  be  within  many  de- 
grees so  impudently  perfidious. 

"  Madeleine  had  accordingly  daily  received  news  of  me,  as 
false  as  that  which  had  been  brought  me  of  her.  Long  before 
my  apostasy,  when  as  yet  I  had  scarcely  begun  to  entertain 
the  idea,  they  had  announced  to  her  its  completion ;  also  that 
I  dasired,  that  T  was  even  anxious,  she  should  follow  my  exam- 
ple. Stronger  thar  I  had  been,  this  first  blow  had  not  shaken 
her.  They  reserved  for  her  a  second.  For  a  long  time  she 
heard  nothing  more  of  me.  She  wept  in  silence,  but  »vould  lis- 
ten to  nothing  more.  At  length  she  was  induced  to  ask  what 
I  was  about ;  then  they  pretended  that  they  dared  not  reply. 
She  insisted.  At  length  they  told  her  that  I  was  married. 
But  the  proselyters  again  gained  nothing  by  their  falsehood. 
She  Avas  more  blest  than  I;  God  remained  with  her.  She 
wept,  but  she  was  not  subdued. 

"  This  story  aroused  in  me  the  most  contending  emotions. 
I  was  happy  and  proud  to  find  that  Madeleine  was  pure  and 
noble,  as  she  had  been  of  old ;  but  every  one  of  these  traits 
showed  me  how  unworthy  I  now  was  of  her.  But  even  in  the 
midst  of  these  revelations,  in  which  she  appeared  to  me  so 
courageous  and  so  firm,  the  triumphant  air  of  the  narrator 
indicated  that  he  was  not  yet  through,  and  I  awaited  with  in- 
creasing anxiety  a  conclusion  which  I  trembled  lest  1  should 
find  little  in  agreement  with  the  beginning. 

"  He  went  on  to  relate  how,  having  had  occasion  to  see 
Madeleine,  he  had  found  her  to  his  taste.  The  part  which  he 
played,  through  his  regiment,  in  the  conversions  of  the  pr  >v 


61  RABAUT     ANT)      15  I'.  I  !)  A  I  X  K  ,     OK 

inco,  gained  him  access  into  the  convent.  He  had  been 
enabled  to  talk  with  her  alone.  He  had  showed  admiration 
of  her  steadfastness,  pity  for  her  misfortunes.  A  master  in  the 
art  of  beguiling,  he  had  always  remained  grave  and  respectful, 
and  she  had  finally  accepted,  without  suspicion,  the  offer  of  his 
assistance  in  escaping  from  this  odious  house. 

"  Accordingly,  one  night  he  carried  her  off.  He  would  take 
her  immediately  t  >  her  relations,  he  had  told  her.  Then  it 
appeared  to  occur  to  him  that  she  would  not  be  in  security 
there,  at  least  for  a  time,  and  he  offered  her  an  asylum  with  a 
lady  of  high  rank  whom  she  knew  by  name.  '  I  did  not  even 
speak  of  accompanying  her,'  he  added.  '  She  entered  my 
carriage ;  she  saw  me  respectfully  close  the  door.  The  trick 
was  played  ;  the  bird  taken.' 

"  '  Bravo,  colonel !'  cried  a  young  officer  who  stood  beside 
me  listening. 

"  The  colonel  turning,  perceived  me.  I  observed  him  grow 
pale.  lie  turned  to  go  away,  as  if  the  story  was  ended.  '  Go 
on !  go  on  !'  was  the  cry  ;  and  they  followed  him  laughing,  for 
they  doubted  not  that  this  feigned  departure  was  in  order  to 
pique  their  curiosity.  But  I  advanced  in  front  of  the  others, 
and  placing  myself  before  him,  said,  '  Go  on,  Monsieur !'  in  a 
tone  which  it  was  soon  perceived  contained  nothing  like  a  jest. 

"  But  this  sudden  attack  had  already  restored  to  him  his 
coolness.  He  stopped  and  said,  with  profound  contempt,  '  Go 
on  ?  Does  Monsieur  take  me  for  a  man  who  may  be  ques- 
tioned, or  who  can  be  induced  by  threats  to  speak  ?' 

'' '  You  shall  speak  !'  I  cried. 

"  And  I  had  already  seized  him  by  the  arm.  But  his  friends 
threw  themselves  upon  me.  Galas,  who  wished  to  defend, 
could  not  even  approach  me.  In  an  instant  we  were  expelled 
from  the  house. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  65 

"  I  was  beside  myself.  I  wished  to  run  to  the  Hotel  de 
Ville,  to  lay  my  complaint  before  the  magistrates.  Galas 
laughed  at  me.  '  A  complaint  on  account  of  a  scene  in  a 
gaming  house  !  A  complaint  against  the  marquis  de  Narniers, 
the  right  arm  of  the  clergy  in  the  province !'  There  was, 
moreover,  he  added,  a  certain  sheriff,  a  sworn  enemy  of  the 
Galas,  who  would  also  become  mine,  so  soon  as  he  knew  me 
to  be  their  friend.  In  short,  I  must  pocket  the  offence,  or  ask 
satisfaction  sword  in  hand. 

"  A  duel !  Another  of  the  things  whose  very  name,  from  a 
slight  reminiscence  of  my  sentiments  of  other  days,  seemed  to 
me  an  outrage  against  the  holiest  laws.  But  it  was  decreed 
that  I  should  trample  upon  all  that  I  had  adored.  An  hour 
after,  I  was  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  where,  sword  in  hand, 
I  awaited  the  colonel's  appearance. 

"  He  came  out.  I  went  up  to  him.  Galas  remained  at  a 
short  distance. 

"  '  Monsieur,'  I  said,  '  you  doubtless  do  not  imagine  that  the 
affair  can  remain  here  1  Answer — or  defend  yourself.' 

"  But  he,  without  even  stopping,  said  : 

"  '  These  fellows  are  strangely  insolent.' 

"  Then,  half  turning,  as  if  towards  a  beggar  of  whom  he 
wished  to  rid  himself,  he  said,  '  But,  my  friend,  where  did  you 
ever  hear  of  a  gentleman  fighting  with  a  maniac  V 

"  I  sprang  upon  him  ;  I  seized  him. 

"  '  Thou  shalt  defend  thyself,'  I  repeated,  '  or  die.' 

"  Did  I  really  mean  to  kill  him,  if  he  refused  to  fight?  God 
is  my  witness  that  I  did  not.  What  would  I  have  done  ?  I 
know  not.  But  already,  as  I  held  him,  I  asked  what  I  ought 
to  do.  I  was  stronger  than  he.  It  only  remained  with  me  to 
stab  him  ;  bitf  that  alone  would  have  restrained  me,  even  if  I 
had  wished  t«  do  it.  At  length  I  thought  that  he  put  his  hand 


GO  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

on  his  sword.  I  let  him  go, — and  scarcely  was  his  arm  at 
liberty,  when  a  pistol  buliet  grazed  my  cheek.  But  I  had  had 
time  to  see  him  raise  his  arm.  I  had  thrown  myself  on  one 
side ;  and  at  the  moment  when  the  shot  was  fired,  I  heard  a 
cry.  In  throwing  my  hands  forward  to  ward  oft'  a  blow,  I  had 
pierced  his  breast. 

"  Windows  were  thrown  open ;  the  street  was  lighted.  Galas 
dragged  me  away.  I  remained  some  days  concealed  in  the 
house  ol  one  of  his  friends.  A  search  was  made  in  his  house, 
I  learned.  He  asserted  that  he  had  quitted  me  a  short  time 
after  our  expulsion,  and  neither  knew  what  I  had  done,  nor 
what  had  become  of  me.  The  affair  was  carried  on,  moreover, 
with  great  activity.  Nothing  was  spoken  of  but  the  attempted 
assassination  of  the  marquis  de  Narniers.  The  description  of 
the  criminal,  as  complete  as  it  could  be  made,  had  been  sent 
everywhere,  and  a  reward  was  promised  to  whoever  should 
discover  me. 

"  Although  I  had  no  fear  of  the  intentions  of  my  host,  I 
•esolved  to  leave  Toulouse.  It  was  a  torture  for  me  to  live 
thus  shut  up.  I  must  breathe  the  air  of  the  country,  although 
at  each  step  I  might  risk  my  life  or  liberty. 

"  I  set  out.  A  long  beard  and  tattered  clothes  gave  me  the 
aspect  of  one  of  those  vagabonds  who  are  allowed  by  the 
patrols  of  the  South  to  beg  around  the  country. 

"  After  having  for  some  days  submitted  to  this  half  savage 
life  as  a  necessity,  it  was  to  appear  to  me  beneath  a  new  aspect. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  the  moment  when  this  strange  trans- 
formation took  place.  It  was  in  the  evening,  on  the  side  of  a 
great  highway,  in  the  outskirts  of  a  wood  where  I  was  about 
to  seek  shelter  for  the  night.  Around  me  were  trees ;  before 
me  were  hills,  behind  which  the  sun  was  going  to  disappear, — 
the  whole  scene,  in  short,  of  the  banks  of  the  Gard !  But 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  67 

there,  before  my  feet,  in  place  of  the  river  which  murmured 
and  darkened,  was  the  silent,  white  road, — the  road,  now  my 
only  home,  as  the  waves  of  the  Gard  had  seemed  my  only 
asylum  when  I  had  resolved  to  end  my  days  beneath  them. 
Then  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  were  in  the  same  place,  at  the 
foot  of  the  same  rock  which  had  beheld  me  fall  when  I  per- 
ceived Rabaut.  The  road  had  miraculously  covered  the  bed 
of  the  river !  The  condemnation  was  written  where  the  crime 
was  to  have  been  committed !  My  life,  instead  of  ending,  was 
to  drag  on  indefinitely  from  road  to  road,  from  village  to 
village,  until  the  inward  voice  which  had  bidden  me  journey 
should  command  me  to  stop. 

"  And  thus  you  see  how,  moving  from  road  to  road,  from  vil- 
lage to  village,  and  from  city  to  city,  I  arrived  in  two  years 
where  you  found  me.  Never  during  these  two  years  have  I 
slept  in  an  inhabited  dwelling ;  never  did  a  second  night  find 
me  in  the  same  spot.  Seated  at  the  doors  of  the  churches  like 
the  penitents  of  old,  I  never  have  crossed  their  threshold.  As 
houses  of  God,  I  felt  myself  unworthy  of  entering  them  ;  as 
the  houses  of  priests,  I  could  not  have  entered  them  without 
horror.  And  never  did  a  priest  pass  me  that  my  heart,  re- 
volted, did  not  murmur :  '  It  is  thanks  to  thee  and  thine  that  I 
am  here  !'  Can  you  understand  now  what  I  felt  at  Meaux  iu 
asking  alii  .3  of  you  ?" 

X. 

MADELEINE. 

"  1  can  understand,"  said  Bridaine.    "  Hast  thou  finished  '" 
"  I  have." 

"  Thou  hast  not  told  me  all.  What  has  become  of  Made- 
leine r 


68  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Absolutely  ?" 

"  Absolutely.  I  imposed  on  myself  the  d  ^termination  nevei 
to  inquire.  What  should  I  gain  by  it  1  Pure,  the  remem- 
brance of  her  would  have  sharpened  my  remorse.  Lost,  I 
must  have  accused  myself  of  her  fate  while  mourning  her." 

Bruyn  spoke  the  truth.  He  was  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  his 
betrothed. 

We  have  heard  that  she  was  at  Meaux.  Before  going  fur- 
ther, we  may  mention  how  she  had  come  there. 

The  marquis  had  retained  her  at  Toulouse.  Free  at  first,  at 
least  in  appearance,  she  had  gradually  become  his  prisoner. 
He  found  it  amusing  to  put  into  practice  what  he  had,  as  yet, 
only  read  in  romances. 

But  he  gained  nothing  from  all  his  trouble.  Threats  and 
attentions  were  equally  without  effect  upon  the  virtue  of  Made- 
leine. He  soon  saw  that  he  must  renounce  his  designs,  or  else 
have  recourse  to  means  which  he  disliked  to  use,  for  in  spite 
of  his  resolution  he  had  submitted  to  the  influence  of  his  vic- 
tim. He  was  angry  at  himself  for  respecting  her  so  much. 
He  was  only  withheld  by  vanity  from  setting  her  at  liberty, 
and  wished  nothing  better  in  reality,  than  to  rid  himself  of 
her. 

It  was  the  abbe  who  came  to  his  aid.  The  priest  boasted 
of  being  more  fortunate  than  the  soldier  ;  he  asserted  that  in 
a  month  he  would  have  gained  more  ground  with  Madeleine 
than  the  marquis  in  a  year. 

She  had  accordingly  been  conducted  to  Meaux.  A  month 
had  passed,  and  the  abbe  was  no  farther  advanced  than  his 
brother. 


THE     COURT  'OF     LOUIS     XV.  69 

XI. 

TWO     PETITIONS     GRANTED. 

"So  thou  hast  nothing  more  to  tell  me]"  resumed  Bri 
daine. 

"  Nothing." 

"  Nothing  to  ask  me  ?" 

"  No, — but  stay.     Yes, — I  have  two  things  to  ask  you." 

"  Let  me  hear  them." 

"  One  is  to  accompany  me  when  I  shall  be  led — " 

"  Be  it  so.     But  I  hope—" 

"  Let  us  hope  nothing.     You  promise  ?" 

"  I  promise." 

"  But  it  is  a  friend  I  want,  I  must  forewarn  you.  Not  a  con- 
fessor." 

"  Unhappy  man !     Wilt  thou  reject — " 

"  All  that  does  not  come  from  God.  I  wish  to  be  taught  to 
approach  him, — I  do  not  wish  that  any  one  should  put  himself 
between  Him  and  me." 

"  Then  thou  hast  again  become  a  Protestant  ?" 

"  I  have  begun  again  to  be  a  Christian." 

"  Christian  ! — And  yet  to  refuse — " 

"  All  which  does  not  come  from  God,  as  I  said  before. 
Would  you  rather  that  I  should  be  an  infidel  ?" 

Bridaine  sighed.  He  could  not,  in  fact,  conceal  from  him- 
self that  an  infidel,  submissive  and  ready  to  confess,  would 
have  less  shocked  him  in  the  first  moment,  than  a  man  refusing 
his  priestly  aid  from  conviction.  Rome  has  always  been  in- 
finitely more  indulgent  towards  those  who  do  not  believe  at 
all,  than  those  who  believe  differently  from  her,  and  it  would 
be  very  difficult,  not  to  say  impossible,  for  a  priest  always  to 


70  RABAUT     AND     URIDAJNE,     OR 

escape  this  singular  impulse.  We  have  seen  Bridiiine  at 
Nimes  offer  Bruyn  of  his  own  accord  a  simple  benediction ; 
and  now  we  see  him  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  letting  him  die, 
without  having  given  him  officially — what "?  A  pardon  which 
he  knows  to  be  nothing  unless  confirmed  by  God. 

"  No,"  he  resumed,  "  I  cannot.  If  I  accompany  thee  whither 
thou  wilt, — it  must  be  as  a  priest." 

v  Well,  let  us  talk  no  more  of  it.  I  had  something  else  to 
ask  you." 

"  Say  on." 

"  There  is  but  one  pardon  in  the  world  which  would  appear 
to  me  in  dying  an  earnest  of  the  pardon  of  God." 

"  I  understand." 

"  Let  me,  before  I  die,  see  him  who  can  alone  give  it.  Is  he 
still  at  Meaux  ?" 

"  He  is  at  Paris,  but  I  do  not  know  where." 

"  Have  you  no  trace  ?" 

"  None." 

"  Then  there  is  no  hope.  But  no, — stay —  Do  you  know 
Monsieur  de  Gebelin  ?" 

"  The  orientalist  1  No —  But  if  it  be  only  necessary  to 
go  and  see  him — " 

"  You  will  go  1  Well,  then,  for  God's  sake  go  to  him.  He 
is  the  friend  of  Monsieur  Rabaut.  He  must  know -where  he  is.*' 

"  I  will  go  ?     Adieu,  my  son." 

"  Adieu,  my  Father.  Your  blessing  was  a  comfort  to  ino 
at  Nimes." 

"  Receive  it  again.     Adieu." 

And  the  prisoner  rose  as  though  to  accompany  the  priest. 
The  noise  of  his  chains  warned  him  that  he  could  only  take 
one  step.  He  stopped. 

"  You  see  ?"  he  said. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  71 

"  What  matters  it,  if  the  soul  be  free  ]' 
"  Yes—     But  if  it  be  not  free  ?" 
Ajid  he  again  seated  himself,  sadly. 

XII. 

BRIDAINE   WITNESSES  A  SINGULAR  SPECTACLE. 

And  yet  although  Bridaine  had  almost  promised  to  save 
him,  he  did  not  know  how  to  set  about  it ;  he  even  thought  it 
very  fortunate  that  this  glimmer  of  hope  had  not  dazzled  the 
prisoner  too  much,  for  he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  that 
it  might  all  fade  away.  Justice  in  the  time  of  Louis  XV.  did 
not  easily  let  go  her  prey.  In  spite  of  the  wise  regulations 
which  Louis  XIV.  had  mingled  with  the  old  customs,  they  were 
very  far  from  having  been  entirely  reformed.  "  When  Mon- 
sieur de  Malesherbes,"  says  the  abbe  Morellet,  "  had  read  my 
Manual  of  Inquisitors,  he  said,  'you  think  you  have  collected 
extraordinary  facts,  unheard  of  proceedings "?  Well,  this  juris- 
prudence is  almost  precisely  similar  to  our  criminal  jurispru- 
dence.' "  This  was  true.  The  judges  were  commonly  better 
than  the  justice,  but  they  were  not  to  be  trusted.  Every  one  who 
was  accused  was  accounted  guilty ;  still  more  so  every  one  who 
was  condemned.  It  might  happen  that  Bridaine  could  touch 
the  judges  by  an  account  of  Bruyn's  sufferings,  and  that  Bruyn 
would  for  all  that  not  be  saved, — for  the  honor  of  the  parlia- 
ment of  Toulouse,  and  of  Justice  in  general.  The  tribunals 
had  not  yet  learned  to  refuse  each  other  these  little  favors. 
The  life  of  a  man  began  indeed  to  be  ^orth  something  ;  but 
far  more  in  the  fashionable  books  of  the  day,  than  on  the 
bench  or  scaffold.* 

*  The  state  of  the  prisons  was  in  accordance  with  the  barbarity  of  the 


72  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

Bridaine  was  moreover  ignorant  of  the  favorable  thougnts 
of  the  marquis  de  Narniers,  but  he  was  none  the  less  resolved 
to  try  him.  He  would  go  and  visit  all  the  councillors  in  turn 
if  it  was  needful.  He  would  gain  the  assistance  of  the  arch- 
bishop. He  would  summon  the  marquis  to  speak  the  truth 
and  confess  that  there  had  been  no  assassination.  He  would 
go  to  the  duke  de  Choiseul,  to  the  king.  Did  not  he  know  the 
way? 

While  he  walked,  full  of  these  thoughts,  through  the  corri. 
dors  of  the  Palais  de  Justice,  the  smell  of  burnt  paper  suddenly 
attracted  his  attention.  He  feared  the  breaking  out  of  a  fire, 
out  no  one  among  the  persons  in  sight  seemed  to  be  uneasy  in 
respect  to  it. 

When  he  reached  the  top  of  the  great  staircase  in  order  to 
go  out,  he  found  himself  in  sight  of  the  explanation  which  he 
wished. 

In  the  midst  of  the  court  was  a  small  pile  of  wood,  upon 
which  were  some  books  burning.  He  perceived  that  it  was 
one  of  those  harmless  auto-da-fes  which  took  place  from  time 
to  time,  for  the  amusement  of  the  Parisians. 

At  this  moment,  however,  there  were  but  few  spectators 

system.  The  greater  number  were  horrid  receptacles  where  accused  and 
condemned  were  herded  together  like  the  meanest  beasts.  It  was  not 
until  the  time  of  Louis  XVI.  that  any  attention  was  paid  to  the  physical 
state  of  the  prisoners.  The  abbe  de  Besplas,  preaching  at  Versailles, 
drew  a  picture  of  it  which  greatly  struck  the  king.  The  courtiers  were 
astonished  that  so  many  horrors  had  remained  unperceived  in  the  midst 
of  so  refined  an  age. 

The  hospitals,  moreover,  were  not  much  better  than  the  prisons.  At 
Paris,  three  patients  were  still  put  into  one  bed.  A  ce  fltury  before  they 
had  put  as  many  as  six. 

These  details,  it  may  be  remarked  in  passing,  are  little  like  what 
Chateaubriand  has  related  of  the  marvels  of  Catholic  charity.  Protestant 
countries  were  already  quite  different  as  regards  humanity. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  73 

either  in  the  court  or  the  streets  leading  to  it.  People  were 
seen  to  approach  and  inquire  what  was  going  on ;  the  thing  had 
evidently  not  been  announced  beforehand.  There  was  even  an 
appearance  of  stealth  in  the  proceedings.  A  bailiff  read  the  de- 
crees, but  so  quickly  and  in  so  low  a  voice  that  the  nearest  by- 
standers could  scarcely  catch  a  few  words.  Two  councillors  in 
their  robes  presided  at  the  execution.  They  seemed  embar- 
rassed. One  of  them  especially,  seemed  to  think  that  the 
bailiff  did  not  read  rapidly  enough,  that  the  books  burnt  too 
slowly.  And  more  than  one  waggish  clerk  slyly  observed  the 
effects  of  this  impatience  upon  the  very  ugly  countenance  of  the 
abbe  de  Chauvelin,  for  it  was  he.  All,  down  to  the  very  hang- 
man, seemed  to  be  in  haste  to  get  through  with  it.  In  place 
of  "  destroying"  the  books,  as  the  decrees  expressed  it,  he  con- 
fined himself  to  tearing  out  a  page  or  two,  and  the  fire  did  the 
rest. 

Not  that  all  these  writings  which  they  made  a  feint  of  de- 
stroying were  not  bad,  detestably  bad.  The  flames  had  already 
devoured  the  "  Chinese  letters"  of  D'Argens,  the  Vision,  of 
Grimm,  the  Christianity  unmasked,  of  Damilaville,  the  Man- 
plant,  of  La  Mettrie,  five  or  six  anonymous  pamphlets  where 
Voltaire's  hand  betrayed  itself  in  every  line,  and  five  or  six 
works  signed  with  the  unknown  names  of  people  thinking 
themselves  in  possession  of  mind  enough  to  prove  that  man  is 
a  brute.  The  harvest  was  abundant  we  perceive,  and  it  must 
be  acknowledged  that  so  long  as  they  must  burn,  the  parlia- 
ment could  not  have  chosen  better.  But  from  the  president  to 
the  bailiff,  from  the  attorney-general  to  the  hangman,  all  felt 
that  it  was  lost  labor.  Some  of  them,  partisans  of  the  new 
ideas,  only  looked  upon  it  as  a  comedy  to  be  played  until  the 
age  should  be  ripe  for  the  predicted  regeneration  ;  the  others 
more  sincere,  understood  all  the  better  on  that  account,  the  use 


74  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

lessness  of  the  part  they  played,  and  the  nothingness  of  their 
efforts.  From  these  causes  proceeded  the  embarrassment  of 
all ;  and  also  the  singular  contrivances  by  which  they  en- 
deavored at  least  to  escape  ridicule,  even  if  they  must  cast  a 
few  grains  of  incense  into  the  flame  where  they  threw  the 
books. 

XIII. 

• 

L'E  SPRIT,     OF    HELVETIUS. 

There  remained  but  one  to  be  burned.  Bridaine  thought  he 
perceived  that  the  two  councillors  looked  still  more  embar- 
rassed. The  bailiff  read  low,  so  low  that  nothing  at  all  was  to 
be  heard. 

The  passers  by  had  gradually  increased  the  number  of  spec- 
tators ;  there  was  almost  a  crowd.  "  Louder  !"  cried  some- 
body. "Louder,"  repeated  several  others.  Bridaine  then 
bent  all  his  attention  to  listen.  He  thought  he  distinguished 
the  words,  poison,  philosophy,  venom,  esprit^ 

"  Ah,  ha !"  said  a  subordinate  clerk,  "  it  appears  that  it  is 
*  The  Mind'  (V  Esprit,)  of  Monsieur  Helvetius." 

"  Come  !"  said  another.  "  Hast  thou  at  last  discovered 
that  1  It  is  for  his  benefit  that  the  whole  ceremony  takes 
place." 

"  For  him  ?     And  what  of  these  others,  then  ?" 

''  The  others  are  only  there  in  order  to  keep  him  company. 
Jfessieurs  were  desirous  of  burning  the  book,  but  they  did  not 
wish  to  grieve  the  author,  who  is  the  good  friend  of  almost  all 
of  them.  Since — thou  cans't  comprehend — he  was  once  farmer 
of  the  revenues,  master  of  the  household  to  the  queen,  and  a 
man  of  one  hundred  thousand  crowns  income  !  When  the 
poison  is  in  a  golden  vessel  one  cannot  do  less  than  be  polite 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  75 

in  throwing  it  into  the  fire.  So  Messieurs  resolved  to  unite  in 
the  same  batch,  all  that  remained  burnable  in  France." 

"  And  dost  thou  call  that  polite,  pray  ?  If  I  were  named 
Helvetius,  there  are  people  there  whose  ashes  I  should  care 
little  to  have  mixed  with  mine." 

"  Well,  the  name  is  accordingly  not  mentioned  in  the  de- 
cree. What  they  wanted,  dost  thou  see,  was  that  the  parlia- 
ment should  not  appear  to  have  lighted  the  fire  entirely  for 
him.  'You  are  burning  books  are  you,  master  hangman? 
Well,  here,  since  you  are  about  it  you  may  as  well  burn  us  up 
these  too  without  any  fuss.'  Wait,  the  clerk  is  just  passing  the 
volume  to  Samson.  Courage,  Samson,  my  friend !  Tear, 
tear, — come !  a  little  more  firmness  !  To-day  at  least,  art 
thou  the  executor  of  all  sorts  of  works ! — Good !  there  is 
Mind  in  the  fire.  It  burns,  but  it  does  not  sparkle.  In  fact,  I 
found  it  perfectly  tiresome." 

"  Thou  hast  read  it  ?" 

"  Six  pages,  of  which  I  understood  nothing,  unless  it  was  that 
in  place  of  calling  the  work  Mind,  it  would  have  been  more 
honest  to  call  it  Matter.  Ho !  what  is  all  that  ?  A  man 
wants  to  throw  himself  out  of  the  window  ?" 

In  fact,  a  man  had  been  perceived  clapping  his  hands,  in  the 
fourth  story  window  of  a  neighboring  house.  Two  or  three 
others  whose  arms  alone  were  visible,  endeavored  to  draw  him 
back,  but  he  leaned  still  further  out  of  the  window,  and  still 
clapped  his  hands,  which  remained  at  liberty.  At  length  he 
was  drawn  back  Jnto  the  apartment,  and  the  window  was 
dosed.  Helvetius  went  on  burning. 

"  Some  madman,"  said  one  of  the  two  clerks. 

"  Or  some  fanatic,"  said  the  other,  "  who  has  become  so  from 
joy  at  the  smell  of  this  burned  infidelity.  That  is  all,  I  think." 

"  Probably.  But  no.  What  is  it  they  are  bringing  out  there  ?" 


76  RABAUT     AND     BBIDAINE,     OR 

XIV. 

A     STRANGE     AUTO-DA-F^. 

Two  bailiffs  had  rolled  up  a  great  bale  of  books  to  the  side 
of  the  smoking  remains  of  Voltaire  and  Helvetius.  Then,  in 
his  nasal  tone,  but  this  time  perfectly  loud  and  clear,  like  a 
man  perfectly  at  his  ease,  the  clerk  read  the  following  decree : 

"  The  court, 

"  In  consideration  of  the  notification  of  the  king,  date  24th 
of  April,  1729,  concerning  books  used  by  the  so-called  reformed 
religion,  under  whatsoever  title,  form  and  denomination,  they 
may  appear ; 

"  And  in  consideration,  that  notwithstanding  the  said  notifi- 
cation, and  the  decrees  consequent  upon  the  application  of  the 
same,  there  have  recently  been  made  divers  attempts  to  intro- 
duce these  books  into  the  kingdom,  in  order  to  spread  abroad 
the  poison  which  the  late  king  of  glorious  memory  had  begun, 
to  extirpate,  and  which  the  king  our  lord  has  pursued  into  its 
remotest  hiding  places ; 

"And  in  consideration  of  the  verbal  process,  date  May  15, 
1760,  witnessing  that  a  bale  of  the  said  works  has  been  seized 
in  the  possession  of  Master  Dumont,  bookseller  of  Paris ; 

"The  attorney-general  having  been  heard  in  his  various 
representations  and  requisitions, 

"  In  all  things  concerning  said  Master  Dumont ; 

"  In  consideration  of  the  notification  of  the  king,  bearing  date 
August  10,  1685,  pronouncing  condemnation  to  fine  of  fifteen 
hundred  livres,  with  deprivation  of  employment,  against  the 
booksellers  who  should  hold  or  sell  said  books ; 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  77 

"  In  consideration,  on  the  one  hand,  that  he  does  not  deny 
having  known  the  contents  of  the  before-mentioned  bale ; 

"  In  consideration,  on  the  other  hand,  of  his  declaration  that 
he  has  sold  none  of  the  volumes  therein  enclosed,  but  that  he 
awaited,  without  even  opening  it,  the  arrival  of  the  third,  to 
him  unknown  party,  in  order  to  take  possession  of  it ; 

"  Pronounces  that  there  is  no  cause  for  decieeing  the  de- 
privation of  employment ; 

"  Condemns  Dumont  only  to  a  fine  of  fifteen  hundred  livres, 
of  which  falls  a  third  to  the  king,  a  third  to  the  Hotel  Dieu  of 
Paris,  and  a  third  to  the  informer,  who  has  demanded,  accord- 
ing to  the  tenor  of  the  ordinances,  not  to  be  named ; 

"  And  concerning  the  books  seized, 

"  Orders  that  the  attorney-general  shall  see  that  they  are 
carried  to  the  depot  of  the  court,  in  order  by  the  executioner 
to  be  torn  up  and  burned  in  the  court  of  the  palace,  at  the  foot 
of  the  grand  staircase,  as  pernicious  and  seditious,  contrary  to 
the  laws  and  maxims  of  the  religion  of  the  State. 

"  Given  at  Paris,  July  15,  1760." 

During  the  reading  of  this  decree,  the  hangman's  assistants 
had  restored  the  fire,  and  enlarged  the  pile  of  wood.  The 
bailiffs  emptied  the  bale.  It  contained  four  or  five  hundred 
volumes,  and,  so  far  as  could  be  judged  from  a  distance,  they 
were  all  copies  of  the  same  work.  The  hangman  took  one, 
then  a  second,  then  a  third,  and  threw  them  one  after  the  other 
into  the  flames,  after  having  torn  them  in  two.  The  fourth 
time  he  took  an  armful,  then  another  armful,  and  thus  he  con- 
tinued. From  time  to  time  he  tore  one.  At  length  all  were 
in  the  fire,  but  it  was  only  by  means  of  the  faggots  of  wood 
that  they  could  be  made  to  burn.  The  spectators  began  to 
laugh,  and  the  two  councillors  had  prudently  gone  into  the 


78  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

palace.  Some  of  the  leaves  of  the  book  were  picked  up,  as  the 
wind  scattered  them,  half  burned,  about  the  court.  Many  were 
highly  entertained  by  them.  Some,  after  having  decyphered 
a  few  lines,  showed  them  to  one  another  with  an  air  of  surprise. 

The  book  which  had  just  been  torn  and  burned  by  the  hang- 
man, at  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase  of  the  Palace  of  Justice, 
in  Paris,  in  the  year  of  grace  1760,  was — 

Bridaine  had  picked  up  two  leaves  of  it,  and  had  with  a  sigh 
put  them  into  his  pocket.  Let  us  leave  them  there :  we  shall 
find  them  again. 

XV. 

THE   CHARACTER   AND   WORKS   OF  HELVETIU8. 

Our  readers  doubtless  know  from  what  window  came  the 
singular  applause  which  was  heard.  But  from  whom  this  ap- 
plause came,  it  remains  for  us  to  say. 

The  guests  of  Helvetius  had  been  punctual  at  the  rendez- 
vous. The  occasion  was  worth  this  trouble.  Then  an  invita- 
tion of  Monsieur  Helvetius  was  never  willingly  refused,  even 
if  it  were  an  invitation  to  the  fourth  story,  and  in  one  of  the 
narrow,  winding  streets  of  the  Cite.* 

To  those  whom  we  saw  once  before  at  the  house  of  Helvetius 
were  added,  by  special  invitation,  several  other  members  of 
the  sect, — the  abbe  Raynal,  already  famous ;  the  abbe  Morel- 
let,  who  was  to  be  so,  for  he  had  just  come  from  the  Bastile ; 
Saint  Lambert,  author  of  the  Seasons;  Thiriot,  Voltaire's  fac- 
totum ;  and  two  or  three  less  generally  known ;  among  them 
Doctor  Roux,  who  preached  atheism  with  so  much  unction  and 
faith. 

*  The  island  in  the  S^ine  upon  which  stands  Notre-Dame  and  the 
Palace  of  Justice  is  called  he  Cite.  Tr. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  79 

If  the  neighborhood  appeared  to  them  rather  dirty,  and  the 
stairs  rather  steep,  they  could  not  help  forgetting  this  when 
they  entered.  The  humble  lodging  hired  by  the  former  farmer 
of  the  revenues  had  been  metamorphosed  in  a  few  days  into  a 
charming  little  dwelling. 

When  they  had  expressed  their  admiration  and  astonish- 
ment,— for  it  was  not  supposed  that  he  had  had  any  other 
object  in  view  than  that  of  receiving  his  guests  agreeably, — he 
said: 

"  Come,  you  have  not  yet  seen  everything." 

And  beaming  with  satisfaction,  he  opened  the  door  of  a  little 
kitchen,  furnished  like  the  rest, — bright,  charmingly  neat,  and 
provided  with  every  utensil, — and  common  utensils,  moreover 
which  were  evidently  not  there  on  account  of  this  breakfast 
given  by  him. 

"  Well,  do  you  guess  ?"  he  asked.  "  I  was  determined  that 
our  frolic  of  to-day  should  at  least  be  the  occasion  of  a  good 
deed.  In  the  teeth  of  the  parliament,  which  is  going  to  burn 
my  book,  I  install  here,  no  later  than  to-morrow,  a  brave  lad 
of  my  acquaintance,  a  clerk  of  Dumont,  the  bookseller.  He 
is  going  to  be  married.  He  has  not  a  cent  except  five  hundred 
livres,  which  have  been  left  him,  he  says,  by  a  cousin  of  his. 
He  intended  using  them  to  build  his  nest ;  and  lo !  the  nest  is 
ready  here,  and  he  still  has  his  five  hundred  livres.  He  knows 
nothing  of  it  as  yet.  I  long  for  to-morrow,  that  I  may  see  his 
delight.  He  is  going  to  invite  me  to  his  wedding.  I  shall  go ! 
1  shall  go !  It  will  be  one  of  my  gala  days.  Ha !  ha !  Mes- 
sieurs of  the  parliament,  while  you  take  your  method  of 
disgracing  me,  I  must  reinstate  myself  in  my  own  way." 

This  was  the  character  of  Helvetius.  It  would  have  been 
necessary  to  go  very  high  in  the  Christian  scale  to  find  believers 
so  happy  as  he  to  do  good ;  and  if  he  labored  as  hard  as  he 


80  RABAUT     AND     BRIDATNE,     OR 

could  to  take  from  people  all  hope  of  another  life,  it  must  be 
allowed  that  he  also  neglected  nothing  that  might  soften  the 
hardships  of  the  present !  Everything  about  him  breathed 
kindness  of  heart.  With  one  of  the  handsomest  countenances 
in  France,  he  pleased  without  intimidating ;  he  did  not  like  to 
be  with  people  whom  his  presence  made  ill  at  ease.  He  ex- 
celled in  giving  without  degrading,  without  wounding ;  very 
different  from  the  stout  La  Popeliniere,  his  imitator,  who  only 
succeeded  in  throwing  his  money  to  the  dogs,  and  making  his 
house  a  tiresome  collection  of  every  sort  of  person.  We  may 
add  also,  that  he  often  allowed  himself  to  be  deceived.  Is  this 
a  criticism,  or  is  it  a  further  eulogium  ?  Just  as  may  be  pre- 
ferred. It  is  certain  that  if,  in  doing  good,  he  renounced  the 
recompenses  of  heaven,  those  of  earth  were  not  wanting.  The 
whole  coterie,  from  Voltaire  to  the  merest  versifier,  contended 
which  should  sound  his  praises  the  loudest.  Helvetius  was 
the  virtuous  man  of  the  day — the  living  reply  to  all  those  who 
dared  to  pretend  that  it  was  necessary  to  believe  in  God,  in 
order  to  be  so.  How  far  did  this  antagonism  and  these  praises 
influence  his  love  of  goodness?  Without  these  trumpeters, 
would  he  have  loved  it  so  much?  Did  he  perform  good 
actions,  or  splendid  sins,  as  Saint  Augustine  says  ?  God  alone 
could  see ;  it  is  not  for  us  to  judge. 

As  for  his  weight  as  a  philosopher,  it  would  be  superfluous 
to  demonstrate  how  much  his  position  and  services  have  con- 
tributed to  exaggerate  it.  Very  few  infidels  at  the  present 
time  would  like  to  subscribe  to  his  book ;  very  few  indeed 
would  be  proud  of  having  written  it.  They  would  have  no 
reason,  indeed,  to  be  proud  of  having  done  so,  for  such  a  book 
could  have  no  swxsess.  "  The  work  does  not  answer  to  the  title. 
The  author  takes  great  pains,  to  prove  truisms,  and  what  he  says 
new  is  not  always  true.  He  outrages  humanity  by  putting  on 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  81 

l 

the  same  level  pride,  ambition,  avarice,  and  friendship.  There 
are  false  quotations  in  it,  puerile  stories,  and  a  mixture  of 
poetic  style  and  one  puffed  up  with  the  language  of  philosophy. 
Little  order,  much  confusion,  a  revolting  affectation  of  beprais- 
ing  poor  works,  and  an  air  of  decision  still  more  revolting,  etc., 
etc."  This  judgment  is  not  written  by  us,  but  by  Voltaire.* 
D'Alembert,  Grimm,  Raynal,  Morellet,  Diderot  himself,  who 
had  written  out  more  than  one  page  of  it,  in  short  all  the 
friends  of  the  author,  expressed  in  private  the  same  opinion  of 
the  book,  which  did  not  prevent  them,  according  to  their  cus- 
tom, from  crushing  with  sarcasms  any  one  who  might  openly 
speak  ill  of  it. 

Almost  all  the  refutations  of  it  had  in  truth  been  miserable ; 
the  greater  part  of  them  had  been  no  better  than  the  work  it- 
self, if  not  worse.f  We  have  already  had  occasion  to  remark 
how  poor  France  was,  in  good  apologetical  works.  Among 
this  flood  of  anti-Christian  publications,  there  were  scarcely  to 
be  found  here  and  there  some  works  which  were  not  from  their 
weakness,  rather  calculated  to  aid  the  efforts  of  impiety.  In 
spite  of  many  mandates,  whether  or  not  written  by  the 
bishops,  the  best  thing  to  be  found  was  the  old  Apology  of 
Abbadie,  which  had  so  much  success  at  the  close  of  the  pre- 
ceding century. J  Accordingly,  this  was  frequently  reprinted. 
The  bishops  recommended  it,  the  professors  quoted  it ;  they 

*  Letter  to  Thiriot,  Feb.  7,  1759. 

f  Catechism  of  the  Cacouacs,  by  the  abbe1  de  Saint-Cyr,  undor-tutor  of 
the  royal  children  of  France ;  Catechism  of  the  Mind,  by  the  abbe  Gau- 
chet ;  Thanks  to  the  Philosophers  of  the  day,  by  Reruond  de  Saiut- 
Sauveur,  etc.,  etc. 

\  Treatise  upon  the  Christian  Religion,  by  Abbadie,  which  appeared 
at  Rotterdam,  in  1684.  "Until  now,"  wrote  Bussi  to  Madame  de  Se- 
vigne,  "  I  have  not  been  touched  by  any  of  the  books  which  speak  of  God 
But  this  one  makes  me  value  that  fur  which  I  did  not  care.  Once  more, 


82  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

merely  neglected  to  mention  that  Abbadie  was  a  Protestant 
minister,  and  would  have  perished  like  any  other  if  he  had 
been  caught  bringing  his  book  into  France. 

XVI. 

FRENCH   JOURNALS    IN   THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 

Great,  accordingly,  were  the  praises  in  regard  to  this  brave 
fellow  whom  Ilelvetius  was  going  to  put  into  these  furnished 
lodgings.  Then  they  sat  down  and  begun  to  converse. 

The  conversation  of  a  party  of  literary  men  in  1760,  was 
something  quite  brilliant.  At  the  present  day  we  talk  litera- 
ture, or  politics,  or  philosophy,  or  sciences ;  then,  they  talked 
of  all  these  at  once,  for  all  were  bound  or  mingled  together, 
and  it  was  even  in  a  great  measure  on  this  account  that  the 
Encyclopedia,  a  jumble  as  it  was,  of  so  many  things,  was '  the 
truest  expression  of  the  society  of  the  day.  In  our  re-unions, 
every  one,  thanks  to  the  newspapers,  is  furnished  with  an  im- 
mense common  stock  of  ideas  and  facts ;  then,  it  was  necessary 
that  this  common  stock  should  be  collected  in  the  re-unions 
themselves.  Every  time  that  people  met,  they  had  every- 
thing to  tell  one  another ;  each  one  had  to  add  to  the  informa- 
tion of  all ;  and  all  had  something  to  add  to  the  information 
of  each  one. 

There  were  then  no  newspapers,  at  least  in  the  sense  attached 
to  this  word  since  the  revolution.  The  two  publications  which 
resembled  them  most  nearly  were  the  Gazette  of  France  and 
the  Mercury,  and  these  were  still  what  we  should  call  reviews. 

The  Gazette  of  France  had  often  changed  hands.     Sometimes 

it  is  an  admirable  book.  It  sets  vividly  before  my  mind  all  that  it  says, 
and  forces  my  reason  to  doubt  no  longer  those  things  which  appeared  to 
it  incredible." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  83 

free, — with  the  exception  of  the  censure  be  it  understood, — 
sometimes  attached  to  the  department  of  foreign  affairs,  of 
which  it  then  became  the  official  organ,  its  nature  and  editor- 
ship were  generally  about  the  same.  It  put  forth  all  that  the 
government  judged  good  to  publish,  or  to  allow  to  be  published, 
either  domestic,  or  more  especially  foreign  news.  Few  articles 
of  weight  were  found  in  it,  save  from  time  to  time  a  few  tirades 
against  the  enemies  of  the  French  name.  There,  were  to  be 
read  the  court  news,  the  marriages  of  high  and  mighty  lords, 
the  entrances  of  the  ambassadors,  the  great  hunting  parties, 
the  great  balls,  the  great  births  and  the  great  deaths.  There 
was  often  nothing  at  all  said  on  many  subjects  about  which  all 
would  have  been  glad  to  read  a  few  lines  ;  but  then  it  was  al- 
ways to  be  seen  at  full  length  how  such  and  such  a  squadron 
had  made  its  appearance  in  the  seas  of  India  or  Mexico,  how 
such  and  such  a  pasha  had  promised  satisfaction  to  the  French 
standard,  how  the  brave  sailors  of  Saint-Malo  or  Havre-de- 
Grace  had  taken  such  and  such  a  number  of  whales  and 
cachalots,  how  the  Jesuit  fathers  had  just  been  created  man- 
darins, etc. 

The  Mercury  was  a  little  less  a  government,  and  a  little 
more  a  national  journal,  so  far,  at  least,  as  there  was  any  na- 
tion at  that  time.  The  Encyclopedia  had  a  finger  in  it,  through 
Marmontel ;  but  the  Marmontel  of  the  Mercury  had  scarcely 
the  ability  to  belong  to  the  Encyclopedia.  The  Mercury  was 
more  than  anything  else,  a  literary  journal ;  facts  only  appeared 
there  arrayed  in  high-sounding  prose,  or  in  verse  more  or  less 
piquant.  It  was  he  who  must  narrate  after  the  victories  how 
Champagne  or  Normandy,  those  old  types  of  regiments,  had 
repulsed  the  Germans,  English,  or  others ;  he  must  shout  after 
the  defeats,  "  All  is  lost  save  our  honor !"  which  was,  be  it 
said,  not  always  true. 


81  RABAUT     AN7D     BKIDAIXE,     OR 

We  may  mention,  in  order  to  complete  the  list,  the  Ecclesi 
astical  News,  organ  of  the  Janscnists,  the  Literary  Fear,  of 
Fivron,  the  Journal  de  Trevoux,  organ  of  the  Jesuits,  and  one 
3r  two  other  reviews,  and  we  shall  have,  with  the  reports  of 
the  academies,  all  the  periodical  publications  of  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  last  century.  Nothing  daily,  nothing  complete, 
nothing  which  was  not  necessarily  behind-hand  with  the  con- 
versations of  every  day. 

We  complain,  and  not  without  reason,  of  the  inaccuracies 
with  which  our  papers  abound.  But  how  long  do  these  mis- 
takes last  I  The  greater  number,  not  more  than  twenty  four 
hours.  What  one  journal  misstates,  ten  others  rectify.  If  it 
gives  you  a  false  piece  of  news  this  morning,  it  will  withdraw 
it  to-morrow.  The  printing  of  a  piece  of  news  moreover, 
necessarily  stops  any  further  alteration  of  it.  If  it  has  the  in- 
convenience of  seizing,  on  their  first  going  off,  a  multitude  of 
things  only  half  true,  it  at  least  fixes  them  before  they  have 
time  to  become  quite  false.  Then  discussion  ensues,  proofs 
are  brought  forward,  and  it  is  rare  that  the  most  complicated 
things  are  not  made  clear  in  the  course  of  a  few  days.  In  those 
days,  however,  there  was  nothing  of  the  kind.  All  the  labor 
which  now  takes  place  among  the  papers,  and  gradually,  must 
be  performed  in  the  saloons,  and  founded  upon  hear-say, — upon 
stories  which  were  modified  from  hour  to  hour,  from  one  mo- 
ment to  another,  according  as  they  passed  through  more  or 
fewer  hands.  Some,  from  indolence,  adopted  the  habit  of 
believing  everything,  and-  there  was  no  absurdity  which  they 
could  not  be  made  to  credit ;  others  discussed  everything  un 
tiringly,  and  there  were  few  men,  even  the  most  serious, 
whose  conversation  did  not  frequently  turn  to  gossip. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  85 

XVII. 
VOLTAIRE'S   IMPLACABILITY. 

Our  encyclopedists,  with  the  exception  of  Grimm,  had 
scarcely  been  together  half  an  hour,  and  of  what  had  not  they 
already  talked ! 

Two  or  three  subjects,  however,  had  had  the  first,  and  the 
principal  attention. 

One,  the  most  exciting,  was  the  representation  of  the  Ecos- 
saise,  which  had  taken  place  on  the  preceding  evening,  but 
which  had  been  very  near  not  taking  place,  for  the  government 
had  repented  having  authorized  it,  and  it  had  been  feared  to  the 
last  moment  that  the  authorization  might  be  withdrawn.  An 
order  had  been  received  to  change  the  name  of  Frelon  as  too 
much  resembling  that  of  Freron.* 

The  success  had  not  answered  their  expectations.  A  certain 
portion  of  the  public  had  applauded,  but  the  real  public  had 
remained  cool.  The  peice  had  appeared  weak,  very  weak,  as 
it  is,  in  fact,  and  manifestly  inferior  to  that  of  which  it  was  ex- 
pected to  efface  the  impression.  The  '  Ecossaise1  had  only 
served  to  remind  people  of  the  '  Philosophers^1  and  make  them 
wish  to  see  or  read  the  latter  piece  again.  If  Palissot,  in  at- 
tacking, had  not  always  confined  himself  within  the  bounds  of 
good  taste,  Voltaire  in  replying  had  always  confined  himself 
to  the  worst.  His  Frelon  is  a  sort  of  brute  whose  absurd  and 
odious  part  has  not  even  the  merit  of  being  necessary  to  the 
plot.  It  is  only  a  rough  sort  of  patchwork,  and  a  patchwork 
the  sight  of  which  makes  one  feel  too  well  how  all  the  rest  has 
been  made.  The  five  acts,  in  short,  were  written  in  order  to 

*  They  had  accordingly  substituted  Wasp,  the  English  translation  of 
Frelon. 


80  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

introduce  fivo  or  six  scenes  which  are  more  malicious  than 
witty.  If  this  judgment  appears  severe  we  must  refer  to  that 
of  Grimm  in  his  correspondence,  some  weeks  before  the  repre- 
sentation. 

The  public  trial  of  the  piece,  had  caused  all  these  faults  to 
appear  still  more  prominent ;  the  Encyclopedists  felt  them- 
selves only  poorly  revenged.  They  tried  to  blame  the  actors 
for  it.  It  was  because  Mademoiselle  Gaussin  had  spoiled  the 
part  of  Lindane ;  or  Mademoiselle  Dangeville  had  spoiled 
Polly.  Brizard  had  weakened.  Monrose;  Armand  had  not 
understood  Fabrice  ;  etc.,  etc.  But  they  ended  by  confessing 
that  neither  Lindane  nor  Fabrice,  nor  Monrose,  nor  Polly, 
were  after  all  worth  much.  They  asked  with  some  alarm,  if 
the  patriarch  was  on  the  wane,  and  calculated  not  without  un- 
easiness, the  chances  he  might  have  of  regaining  lost  ground  by 
his  Tancred,  then  actually  in  rehearsal. 

Apropos  to  Tancred,  a  question  had  recently  arisen.  When 
Amenaide  is  led  to  the  execution  must  the  public  perceive  the 
scaffold  ? 

The  idea  was  suggested  by  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  who  was 
to  play  Amenaide.  Opinions  had  been  divided.  The  decision 
of  the  author  was  awaited  with  great  impatience. 

Was  this  one  of  the  questions  whose  importance  arose  out  of  a 
want  of  more  serious  objects,  and  the  idleness  of  the  disputants? 

Not  entirely.  It  contained,  as  was  subsequently  perceived, 
the  germ  of  discussions  of  a  higher  significance.  Tancred 
without  the  scaffold  was  Racine  ;  Tancred  with  the  scaffold  was 
Shakspeare. 

Accordingly  Voltaire  had  shuddered  at  the  thought.  He  had 
written  to  the  actress,  forbidding  her  to  dream  of  it,  to  his  cor- 
respondents begging  them  not  to  allow  it,  and  Thiriot  showed 
a  letter  from  him  containing  this  passage  : 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  87 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Clairon,  with  her  scaffold  upon  the 
stage  ?  Is  it  not  a  fine  idea  to  wish  to  change  the  French 
theatre  into  a  place  de  Greve?  My  friend,  let  us  fight  the 
English,  but  not  imitate  their  barbarous  stage.  Let  us  study 
their  philosophy,  let  us  drive  out  the  Jesuits  and  the  wolves, 
let  us  not  blindly  fight  against  attraction,  nor  inoculation,  let 
us  learn  from  them  to  cultivate  the  earth,  but  let  us  take  care 
not  to  imitate  their  savage  ideas  of  the  stage.  No,  no  !  this 
abominable  idea  is  only  fit  for  the  English  theatre.  If  the 
scaffold  were  for  Freron, — well  and  good  ;  but  for  Clairon, — I 
cannot  permit  it." 

"  There  must  always  be  a  fling  at  Freron,"  said  Helvetius. 

He  did  not  like  this  inveterate  hatred.  He  advocated  war 
against  ideas,  he  said,  not  against  individuals. 

"  Always,"  said  Damilaville.  "  He  never  lets  him  alone. 
See  what  he  writes  me  on  the  same  day.  '  It  is  not  enough  to 
render  Freron  ridiculous  ;  to  crush  him  is  the  great  pleasure.' " 

"  That  is  very  bad,  now,"  resumed  Helvetius.  "  We  at- 
tack ;  the  others  defend  themselves.  When  one  deals  out 
blows,  why  be  astonished  to  receive  others  in  return  1  Go  on. 
What  more  does  he  say  ?" 

" '  To  crush  him  is  the  great  pleasure.  But  all  these  pas- 
sions fade  before  the  cordial  hatred  which  I  bear  towards  the 
impudent  Omer.  Since  I  cannot  chop  off  the  hand  with  which 
he  wrote  his  famous  request,  I — '  " 

"  Enough,"  said  Helvetius.  "  It  would  be  very  mortifying 
for  us  if  such  lines  should  come  to  be  known.  Monsieur  de 
Fleuri  did  his  duty.  He  showed  more  courage  in  attacking 
my  book  than  I  in  writing  it." 

This  was  true ;  but  Helvetius  was  almost  the  only  one  who 
did  not  give  himself  up  to  these  bitter  hatreds  of  which  Voltaire 
fanned  the  flame. 


88  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  He  takes  good  care,"  he  resumed,  "  not  to  write  me  such 
things.  I  too  had  a  letter.  Here  it  is.*  He  calls  the  attor- 
ney general  "  our  enemy,"  nothing  more.  He  consoles  me  by 
speaking  of  the  progress  made  by  philosophy." 

"  And  he  gives  you  a  curious  specimen  of  it,"  added  d'Hol- 
bach.  "  You  would  never  guess,  gentlemen,  from  whom  he 
has  just  had  a  visit  at  Ferney.  Our  Omer's  own  son  !" 

This  was  also  true.  While  the  father  caused  the  writings  of 
Voltaire  to  be  burned  at  Paris,  the  son  went  to  Ferney,  to 
sacrifice  upoii  the  altar  of  the  divinity  of  the  day. 

XVIII. 

PECULIARITIES     OF    ROUSSEAU. 

They  talked  of  Ferney  and  of  Voltaire.  And  now  they 
talked  also  of  Rousseau. 

What  did  they  say  of  him?  They  did  not  know  what  to 
say ;  he  became  every  day  more  incomprehensible. 

His  New  Heloise,  his  Julie,  as  it  was  called,  was  awaited 
with  increasing  impatience.  The  bookstores  were  besieged 
with  people  who  asked  after  it.  Its  success  was  certain,  more 
than  certain. 

"Well,"  said  d'Holbach,  "I  went  yesterday  to  Montmo- 
rency,  and  found  Rousseau  more  ennuye,  sulkier,  more  bear- 
ish than  ever.  He  had  that  very  morning  rudely  refused  a 
basket  of  game  sent  him  by  the  prince  de  Conti,  with  the  mes- 
sage, as  an  additional  piece  of  politeness,  that  it  had  been 
killed  by  his  own  hand.  Upon  the  entreaties  of  the  bearer,  he 
kept  it,  but  wrote  on  the  spot  to  Madame  de  Boufflers  that  it 

*  Voltaire  was  iu  the  habit  of  sending  off  several  letters  at  the  same 
time. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  89 

was  the  last  which  he  would  accept.  Remark  that  a  few  days 
before,  he  had  received  a  visit  from  the  prince  himself,  of  which 
he  appeared  to  me  excessively  proud,  in  spite  of  all  his  dis- 
dain. He  spoke  to  me  a  dozen  times  of  his  misfortunes,  and  a 
dozen  times  I  tried  in  vain  to  make  him  tell  me  a  little  what 
he  meant  by  it.  The  Luxemburg  people  redouble  their  atten- 
tions. The  Hermitage  is  charming ;  it  is  the  hermit  who  is 
crazy.  All  his  good  sense  is  transformed  into  genius,  and  slips 
away  at  the  point  of  his  pen.  He  will  soon  not  have  a  grain 
left.  He  sees  enemies  everywhere,  traps  everywhere,  calum- 
niators everywhere.  I  thought  myself  the  last  person  of  whom 
he  could  be  distrustful.  Not  at  all.  He  received  me  almost 
rudely.  I  have  been  concerned,  he  gave  me  to  understand, 
and  that  with  his  Therese,  in  certain  plots  against  him.  I 
thought  at  first  that  he  meant  some  plots  against  his  do- 
mestic peace,  an  odd  enough  idea,  when  one  has  a  wife  who 
looks  as  she  does,  and  who  is  above  all,  so  witty ;  but  no,  it 
was  not  even  that.  What  was  it  then,  pray  1  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do.*  The  plots  made  against  him  vanish  like  his 
misfortunes,  as  soon  as  you  insist  upon  his  explaining  them. 
I  reasoned  with  him  as  well  as  I  could.  He  allowed  me  to 
talk  until  I  had  finished  all  I  had  to  say,  and  then  began  again, 
as  if  I  had  not  said  a  word.  I  compared  him  in  my  own 
mind  to  those  people  who  always  think  that  there  is  a  robber 
concealed  under  their  bed.  They  look, — no  robber.  They  go 
away, — the  robber  is  back  again.  In  the  meantime  he  is  pro- 
foundly miserable,  and  will  constantly  become  more  so." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  him,"  said  Diderot  abruptly. 

"  You  do  not  like  him  much,  Diderot,"  resumed  d'Holbach, 
"  and  hf  returns  the  compliment ;  but  we  should  all  be  wrong, 

*  In  spite  of  the  Confessions,  no  historian  h;is  ever  succeeded  in  ex- 
plaining the  rupture  of  Rousseau  with  d'Holbach  and  so  many  others. 


90  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

I  think  all  equally  wrong,  to  regulate  our  feelings  by  his.  So 
much  the  worse  for  him  I  you  said.  Well,  the  more  I  study 
him,  the  more  I  am  assured  that  we  cannot  with  justice  blame 
him  either  for  his  griefs  or  his  faults.  He  is  a  sick  man,  a 
child." 

"  A  child  who  thinks  himself  the  only  reasonable  being  in 
the  world." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  that  it  is  true.  Never  was  any  man,  beneath 
the  humblest  exterior,  more  imperturbably  self-satisfied. 
Others  have  been  as  much  so,  but  at  least  because  they  believe 
themselves  to  be  good  and  clever.  But  he,  in  order  to  tell 
you  that  he  is  the  best  of  men,  must  begin  by  relating  to  you 
a  parcel  of  turpitudes,  which  he  confesses  and  exaggerates,  and 
of  which  at  length  he  accuses  himself,  with  the  fervor  of  a 
Trappist.  His  life,  he  says,  has  been  but  one  tissue  of  mis- 
takes ;  try  to  save  him  from  making  another,  and  he  will  resist 
like  a  man  convinced  that  he  never  has  made  one,  and  is  incapa- 
ble of  doing  so.  The  only  way  of  standing  well  with  him,  at 
least  for  a  few  days,  is  to  furnish  him  with  an  opportunity  • 
of  playing  the  generous.  You,  for  instance,  Diderot,  he  de- 
tested yesterday  a  little  less  than  usual.  Do  you  know  why  ? 
Duchesne  the  bookseller  sent  him  the  Philosophers,  in  which 
Palissot  tears  you  to  pieces  and  spares  him,  Rousseau,  in 
quite  a  marked  manner.  Thereupon  he  expressed  great  indig- 
nation that  any  one  could  have  believed  that  he  would  be  flat- 
tered to  see  himself  spared  at  your  expense.  He  replied  to 
Duchesne  that  he  would  not  accept  his  horrible  present ;  that  he 
had  had  the  honor  to  be  your  friend  ;  that  he  could  never  take 
pleasure  in  seeing  a  respectable  man  calumniated.  So  far  as  1 
know,  Morellet,  he  has  never  yet  said  any  bad  of  you,  but 
since  he  contributed  to  your  release  from  the  Bastile,*  you  are 
*  Through  *he  mediation  of  the  Marechale  de  Luxembourg. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  91 

in  his  eyes  the  most  virtuous  and  interesting  of  men.  Do  him 
a  service,  and  he  will  instantly  distrust  you.  Release  him 
from  the  Bastile, — if  he  should  happen  to  be  sent  there, — and 
you  are  his  enemy ;  for  the  greater  the  service,  the  less  he  will 
be  able  to  persuade  himself  that  it  was  rendered  disinterest- 
edly." 

"  He  is  a  paradox  incarnate,"  said  Morellet.  "  One  is  ready 
to  ask  at  every  line,  whether  one  is  dealing  with  the  most  lying 
or  the  most  sincere  of  mankind." 

"  If  sincerity,"  said  Helvetius,  consists  in  being  actually  con- 
vinced at  the  moment,  of  the  truth  advanced,  then  I  think 
there  is  no  one  more  sincere  than  he ;  if  we  are  only  to  bestow 
the  name  upon  one  who  begins  by  interrogating  himself,  in 
order  to  see  if  he  really  posseses  the  conviction  which  he  is 
going  to  put  forth,  then  I  must  boldly  say  that  he  is  not  sin- 
cere. All  that  he  says,  he  thinks  true  ;  but  as  for  asking  him- 
self seriously  why, — it  is  a  thing  he  has  never  done.  Thus  it 
is  that  he  has  been  able  to  defend,  with  equal  sincerity,  the 
most  contradictory  things ;  thus  it  is,  that  all  parties  can  pro- 
cure weapons  from  him.  His  conviction,  an  entirely  instruct- 
ive one,  forms  itself  from  page  to  page  ;  it  remains  full  and 
sincere,  even  when  he  is  going  to  combat  what  he  has  once 
upheld.  From  the  time  he  first  wrote,  what  has  he  done? 
You  know  the  story.  His  eye  falls,  by  accident,  upon  a  ques- 
tion in  the  Mercury,  proposed  by  the  academy  of  Dijon :  "  Has 
the  progress  of  science  and  the  arts  contributed  to  corrupt  or 
to  improve  morals  ?"  He  decides  to  enter  into  the  compe- 
tition. He  becomes  enthusiastic ;  he  has  already  sketched  in 
his  mind  a  magnificent  picture  of  the  benefits  of  civilization. 
He  flies  to  a  friend ;  he  excitedly  describes  to  him  his  subject, 
his  plan.  '  It  is  the  asses'  bridge,'  says  the  friend.  '  Take  the 
opposite  theory,  and  you  will  see  what  a  fine  sensation  you 


92  II A  II  ATT      AM)      15  KID  A  INK,     OR 

will  make !'  A  new  flash  !  And  now  he  violently  attacked 
the  n  >tion  he  had  at  first  intended  to  support.  The  friend  was 
yourself,  Diderot." 

"  It  was  I.  As  you  say,  I  had  scarcely  got  the  words  out, 
before  he  was  just  as  much  convinced,  just  as  full  of  enthusi- 
asm as  he  had  been  before ;  just  as  ready  to  say  black  as  he 
had  been  to  say  white" 

"  But,"  said  d'Holbach,  "  he  denied  the  story  to  me." 

"  He  lied  !"  cried  Diderot. 

"  Hush  !  hush !''  said  Helvetius.  "  We  know  very  well  that 
the  story  is  true.  He  allowed  you  to  relate  it  for  ten  years 
without  dreaming  of  contradicting  you." 

"  And  he  dares — " 

"Hush!  I  tell  you.  Is  he  a  man  at  whom  one  can  be 
angry  ?" 

"  But  if  he  lies, — it  is  necessary — " 

"  To  prove  it  to  him  1  You  would  not  succeed.  Remem- 
ber what  I  was  saying  just  now.  If  he  has  got  so  far  as  to 
deny  the  thing,  it  is  because  he  has  got  so  far  as  not  to  believe 
it.  Blame  his  imagination,  if  you.  will,  but  not  his  heart." 

It  was  thus  that  Helvetius  was  accustomed  to  explain  the 
errors  of  Rousseau.  Is  this  system  applicable  to  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  life  and  writings  ?  Let  others  decide. 

As  to  the  story  in  question,  we  confess  that  it  appears  to  us 
impossible  to  doubt  it.  The  Memoirs  of  Marmontel,  and  more 
particularly  of  Morellet,  so  grave  and  impartial  in  his  later 
years,  amply  jounterbalance  the  tardy  denial  of  Rousseau. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  93 

XIX. 

THE  ENCYCLOPEDISTS  OBSERVE  THE  AUTO-DA-F6  FROM  A  DISTANCE. 

The  hour  drew  near. 

"  See,  gentlemen,"  said  Helvetius,  "  they  have  come  to  build 
the  funeral  pyre.  You  know  we  promised  ourselves  the  pleas- 
ure of  being  at  table." 

Many  drew  near  the  window. 

"  Not  so  near,"  he  said, — "  not  so  near,  gentlemen !  One 
of  these  bailiffs  need  only  raise  his  eyes,  and — " 

"  And  he  would  see  us,"  said  Morellet.    "  Well,  what  then  f 

"  What  then  ?  Why,  you  might  be  sent  back  where  you 
have  just  come  from,  Seigneur  Mords-les."  (Morellet,  bite 
them.*) 

"  Silence !"  cried  Damilaville.     "  The  court  enters !'' 

"  Oh  no !"  said  the  abbe ;  "  the  court  comes  out." 

And,  in  fact,  the  two  councillors  appeared  at  the  top  ^t  the 
grand  staircase. 

"  Take  your  seats,  then."  said  Helvetius. 

And  they  did  so.  Damilaville,  who  sat  neat  the  \nndow, 
could,  while  eating,  have  an  eye  upon  what  took  place. 

"  Attention !"  he  said.  "  They  are  going  to  commence.  But 
see !  there  is  one  vacant  place.  Who  is  still  absent  ?" 

"  You  know  Grimm  always  comes  last,"  said  Marmontel. 

"  He  must  have  time  to  run  about  after  news." 

"  Or  time  to  arrange  his  wig." 

He  was,  in  fkct,  extremely  particular  about  it. 

"  Or  time  to  be  seen  by  the  ladies." 

"  Or  time  not  to  be  seen  by  his  creditors." 

"  Or  time—" 

*  The  pun  was  one  of  Voltaire's.  The  fiery  abbe  proved  the  justice 
of  it  constantly. 


9i  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OK 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Helvetius,  raising  his  glass,  "to  the 
health  of  the  parliament!" 

"  To  the  health  of  the  parliament !"  repeated  all  the  guests. 

And  the  glasses  rang,  and  laughs  and  jests  went  round. 

"  Good  !"  said  Morellet,  "  good  !  Health,  sanitas,  which 
means  good  sense  also,  which  I  wish  our  gentlemen  with  all 
my  heart.  Mens  sana  in  corpore  sano." 

"  What  are  they  about,  Damilaville?" 

"The  bailiff  is  reading.  Ah!  he  has  finished  the  first  decree. 
Samson  tears  a  book." 

"  Which  one  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  see  from  here  ?" 

"  Is  it  thick  or  thin,  large  or  small  ?" 

"  It  burns.     But  it  is  too  far  off.    If  I  had  Grimm's  glass — " 

"  What  for  ?"  said  Grimm.     "  My  glass  1     What  for  ?" 

"  Ah !  here  you  are  at  last !  Give  him  your  glass,  and  sit 
down." 

'*  TJP*  me  at  least  take  a  look." 

44  Do  so." 

"  Have  they  burned  many  yet  ?" 

"  They  are  just  tearing  the  second." 

"  Try  to  see  when  my  turn  comes,"  said  Helvetius. 

"  Yes,  I  see  now.  Ha !  who  is  that  priest  who  has  just  made 
his  appearance  on  the  stairs  1  Ah !  it  is  my  man  of  Versailles, 
• — it  is  Father  Bridaine." 

Everybody,  upon  hearing  this,  ran  to  the  window ;  for  the 
occurrence  at  Versailles  had  made  a  prodigious  sensation. 
They  passed  around  the  glass,  in  order  to  see  him  better.  They 
made  a  hundred  remarks  on  his  figure,  his  manner,  his  dress. 

In  the  meantime,  the  bailiff  was  reading,  the  hangman  burn- 
ing. Damilaville  had  promised  to  notify  Helvetius.  He 
hoped  to  recognize  the  book  from  its  shape  and  binding. 

While  waiting, — for  they  had  re-seated  themselves  at  table, 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  95 

— they  related  to  each  other  many  traits,  more  or  less  authen- 
tic, which  have  since  taken  their  places  in  the  biographies  of 
Bridaine. 

"  One  day,"  said  Grimm,  "when  he  was  heading  a  procession, 
he  suddenly  stopped,  and  mounting  on  a  stone,  began,  '  I  am 
going  to  take  you  to  your  home.'  They  followed  him,  and  he 
conducted  them  to  a  cemetery." 

"  He  is  constantly  doing  such  things,"  said  Raynal.  "  There 
is  not  a  sermon  into  which  he  does  not  contrive  to  put  some- 
thing new,  piquant,  or  extraordinary,  in  order  to  arouse  people's 
attention.  I  often  heard  him  at  Pezenas." 

"  What  is  Pezenas  ?"  said  d'Holbach. 

"  It  is  the  province  of  my  birth,  Monsieur." 

"And  of  your  assent  (accent),  probably." 

"  Alas !" 

He  had  often  groaned  over  this  unlucky  accent,  half  Gascon, 
half  Languedocian,  which  had  closed  the  career  of  the  pulpit  for 
him.  "  I  did  not  preach  badly,"  he  used  to  say, — "  but  I  had 
a  devilish  assent."  Upon  what  little  things,  much  often  de- 
pends !  Without  this  accent,  he  would  have  devoted  himself 
to  the  pulpit ;  he  would  have  had  success,  great  perhaps,  for 
he  possessed  all  the  means  of  gaining  it.  Born  at  Paris,  Ray- 
nal would  have  become  a  bishop ;  born  at  Pezenas,  he  became 
an  encyclopedist. 

"  Nothing  could  have  been  more  curious,"  he  resumed, 
"  than  the  first  appearance  of  Father  Bridaine  at  Aigues-Mortes, 
nearly  forty  years  ago.  The  people  had  counted  upon  I  do  not 
know  what  celebrated  preacher  for  their  Lent  sermons.  When 
Ke  was  seen  to  appear,  unknown  and  insignificant  enough  in 
appearance,  they  plotted  together  not  to  go  and  hear  him.  On 
A.sh  Wednesday,  he  enters  the  pulpit.  The  church  empty. 
He  takes  a  bell,  and  goes  walking  about,  ringing  and  ringing, 
through  all  the  streets  of  the  city.  All  Aigues-Mortes  is 


96  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,    OR 

presently  at  his  heels.  He  re-enters  the  church,  ascends  the 
pulpit,  and,  with  his  resounding  voice,  begins  a  chant  upon 
death.  The  people  laugh ;  he  goes  on  his  way.  One  by  one 
the  people  cease  laughing.  They  listen ;  at  length  they  trem- 
ble ;  for  he  has  set  to  work  to  paraphrase  his  chant,  and  pours 
forth  a  torrent  of  images  which  must  terrify  the  most  hardened. 
His  reputation  was  made." 

"I  would  not  be  surprised,"  said  some  one,  "if  Father 
Bridaine  should  become — if  he  is  not  so  already — one  of  those 
men  who  live  in  the  imaginations  of  the  people,  and  whose 
history,  while  they  still  live,  is  full  of  traditions." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  d'Alembert,  "  he  would  be  so  in  common 
with  a  man  to  whom  he  certainly  does  not  suspect  that  he 
bears  a  resemblance, — him  whom  you  saw  at  my  house  last 
week,  Rabaut.  He  returned  to  visit  me  again.  I  induced  him 
to  give  me  a  few  more  details  in  regard  to  the  position  which 
he  holds  among  his  people.  He  is  really,  for  these  poor 
people,  the  hero  of  an  epic.  He  has  constantly  to  resist  the 
honors  which  they  wish  to  pay  him,  and  the  inclination 
which  they  have  to  give  him  all  the  rights  of  the  leader  of  a 
party.  If  he  had  encouraged  them  a  little,  he  would  have  been 
so  long  ago.  Last  year,  when  our  great  generals  allowed 
themselves  to  be  beaten,  and  France  could  scarcely  defend 
herself  on  the  north,  Rabaut  need  but  have  willed  in  order  to 
raise  the  whole  of  the  Southern  provinces,  and  to  rebel,  at  the 
head  of  one  hundred  thousand  men,  against  the  abominable 
oppression  of  the  Protestants.  It  must — " 

"  I  think  we  are  ready,  gentlemen,"  interrupted  Damilaville. 
"  I  recognize  the  book.  They  are  beginning  to  read  the  decree." 

"  Pass  me  the  glass,  gentlemen,"  said  Helvetius.  "  Yes — 
That  is  it — I  recognize  myself." 

His  hand  trembled.  He  saw  that  they  perceived  his  emo- 
tion. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOU  IS     XV.  97 

Helvetius  had  relied  too  much  on  his  strength.  In  reality, 
we  should  say  that  it  was  because  he  did  not  depend  upon  it, 
that  he  had  done  so  much  to  drown  thought.  Pie  had  played 
a  part.  He  thought  he  should  make  it  easier  by  selecting  the 
most  insolent.  The  mask  fell  off  in  spite  of  him. 

"  You  smile,  Diderot  ?"  he  said.  "  Smile.  I  should  do  as 
much  in  your  place.  You  know  whether  I  am  afraid  of  that 
fire  yonder.  But  there  is  one  to  whom  all  this  is  terrible. 
One  who  weeps,  Diderot,  while  we  are  laughing  here.  This 
one—" 

"  It  is  his  mother,"  they  murmured. 

"  It  is  my  mother.  Because  the  cause  of  her  grief  is — is 
absurd,  shall  I  not  feel  a  deep  pity  for  it  ?" 

He  knew  that  his  mother  had  gone  to  pass  in  a  church,  this 
hour,  the  prospect  of  which  had  tormented  her  for  a  year. 
He  saw  her  on  her  knees  praying  for  him. 

They  smiled  no  more.  Diderot  alone  remained  sullen.  He 
did  not  comprehend  why  the  sacred  interests  of  philosophy 
should  not  take  precedence  everywhere  and  in  everything  of 
the  old-fashioned  feelings  of  nature  and  the  old-fashioned  preju- 
dices of  religion.  Moreover,  this  was  not  the  first  time  he  had 
accused  Helvetius  of  only  knowing  how  to  be  courageous  with 
the  pen  in  his  hand.  He  looked  upon  him,  like  Malesherbes 
and  Buffon,  as  too  much  of  a  gentleman  and  too  rich  to  be  a 
true  philosopher ;  he  liked  not  that  any  of  them  should  put  on 
their  gloves  in  order  to  crush  the  wretch,  and  in  regard  to  this 
extensive  cultivation  of  the  old  soil  of  Saint  Louis,  he  would 
have  willingly  said,  parodying  the  words  of  Christ ;  "  whoso- 
ever putteth  his  hand  to  the  plough  and  looketh  behind  him,  is 
not  worthy  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  reason." 

He  looked  out  again.  But  as  they  could  still  hear  nothing, 
he  said, 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  read  this  decree." 


98  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAIXE,     OR 

"  Wait,"  said  Grimm,  "  I  got  a  copy  of  it.    See  also — " 

"  What  is  this  !"  cried  Diderot.  '  Recantation  which  Sieur 
Helvetius  deposited  in  the  registry  of  the  Court T  " 

"  Read  it,"  cried  some. 

"  No,  no  !"  said  some  others  who  appeared  to  have  seen  it 
already,  and  to  have  little  desire  that  it  should  be  more  widely 
known. 

But  Diderot  read ; 

" '  I  have  not  wished  to  attack  any  of  the  truths  of  Christi- 
anity, which  I  profess  sincerely  in  all  the  strictness  of  its  doc- 
trines and  practice,  and  to  which  I  glory  in  submitting  all  my 
thoughts,  all  my  opinions,  and  all  the  faculties  of  my  being, 
certain  that  all  that  is  not  in  conformity  with  its  spirit,  cannot 
be  truth.  These  are  my  true  sentiments.  I  have  lived,  I  shall 
live  and  die  maintaining  them.'  " 

Diderot,  while  reading  these  lines,  had  interrupted  himself 
two  or  three  times,  half  suffocated  with  indignation,  and  in  part 
from  hesitation  to  believe  that  the  thing  was  authentic.*  But 
Helvetius  sat  immovable,  with  his  eyes  cast  down ;  he  evi- 
dently confessed.  Diderot  contained  himself;  but  he  was  not 
a  man  to  do  so  long.  He  had  thrown  away  the  paper ;  his 
lips  quivered.  "  A  recantation,"  he  muttered ;  "  a  recanta- 
tion !"  Then  growing  excited :  "  when  do  they  expect  this  old 
idol  to  fall,  when  it  has  but  to  frown,  in  order  to  prostrate 
them  at  its  feet  1  A  recantation  !"  And  suddenly  springing 
to  the  window,  he  cried ; 

"  Bravo !  gentlemen,  bravo  !  Burn,  burn — since  there  are 
still  people  who  are  afraid  of  your  flames." 

It  was  then  that  he  had  been  seen,  leaning  out  of  the  window, 
clapping  his  hands,  and  resisting,  like  a  madman,  all  efforts  to 
drag  him  back. 

*  T*  is  authentic.     We  have  not  changed  a  siugle  woi  d. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  99 

XX. 

RECANTATIONS  OF  THE  INFIDELS. 

The  tears  of  his  mother,  the  advice  of  pious  and  prudent 
friends,  and  the  indignation  of  the  queen  and  the  dauphin,  had 
determined  Helvetius  upon  this  strange  proceeding. 

Strange  indeed  would  be  the  history  of  all  the  recantations 
tnus  extorted  from  the  infidelity  of  the  last  century.  It  is  im- 
possible to  know  which  most  to  wonder  at,  the  foolishness  of 
those  who  exacted  them,  or  the  dishonesty  of  those  who  dared 
to  sign  them. 

Voltaire,  the  first  to  attack,  was  also  the  first  to  recant. 
He  did  not  even  wait  to  be  forced  to  it ;  he  amused  himself  by 
being  beforehand.  He  thought  it  an  excellent  jest  to  scoff  at 
all  those  whose  belief  he  had  already  scoffed  at,  by  denying  his 
sarcasms,  crying  out  against  his  calumniators,  and  professing  to 
be  the  most  devout  of  believers.  See  his  letters.  If  those  were 
collected  in  which  he  plays  the  Christian,  there  would  be  enough 
to  make  a  volume.  Did  he  hope  to  deceive  by  these  ?  Perhaps 
so  at  the  outset ;  afterwards  he  knew  that  no  one  believed  a  word 
of  them.  But  after  all,  what  mattered  it  to  him  whether  he 
was  believed  or  not  1  "  If  I  had  one  hundred  thousand  men," 
he  writes  to  the  count  d'Argental,  "  I  know  very  well  what  I 
would  do ;  but  as  I  have  not,  I  shall  commune  at  Easter,  and 
you  may  call  me  hypocrite  as  much  as  you  will."  If  he  was 
taken  ill,  he  confessed.  If  serious  threats  are  made,  he  will 
play  the  sick  man  in  order  to  have  an  opportunity  to  confess. 
If  a  stranger  comes,  of  high  rank,  but  religious,  who  appears  to 
wish  to  hear  his  profession  of  faith,  see  what  he  will  write  him  :* 

"  The  great  Corneille  was  obliged  to  reply  to  his  enemies, 
that  he  submitted  all  his  writings  to  the  judgment  of  the  Church. 

*  Letter  to  the  marquis  Albergati  Capacelli,  senator  of  Bologna,  1760 


100  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  I  say  the  same  thing,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me,  to  say  it 
to  a  senator  of  the  second  city  in  the  States  of  the  holy  Father ; 
and  it  is  delightful  for  me  to  say  it  upon  an  estate  so  near  to 
the  possessions  of  the  heretics  as  mine  are.  The  more  I  am 
filled  with  charity  for  their  persons,  and  indulgence  for  their 
errors,  the  firmer  I  am  in  my  faith — etc.,  etc." 

Thus  spoke  the  master ;  and  thus  spoke  the  disciples  with- 
out scruple,  if  the  weather  was  a  little  stormy,  and  the  Bastile 
appeared  to  prepare  for  new  guests. 

This  insincerity  was  nevertheless  too  common  for  us  to  ap- 
preciate it  with  entire  justice.  It  was  somewhat  with  recanta- 
tions of  this  kind,  as  with  forms  of  politeness.  They  had,  so  to 
speak,  passed  into  the  language ;  each  one  knew  perfectly  well, 
arhat  allowances  were  to  be  made.  To  protest  that  a  man  was 
submissive  to  the  Church,  was  in  the  eyes  of  people  in  general, 
no  more  extraordinary  than  to  call  one's  self  in  a  letter,  the 
obedient  servant  of  one's  inferior,  or  to  assure  one's  respect  and 
consideration  to  a  man  generally  despised.  You  may  have 
seen  caricatures,  of  a  man  who  makes  apologies  to  his  adver- 
sary, saying  innocently,  that  in  insulting  him,  even  in  boxing 
his  ears,  he  had  no  intention  of  offending  him.  Thus  acted 
many  people  in  this  vast  combat  between  intoxicated  reason 
and  religion  degraded.  Thus  had  Helvetius  acted,  and  Diderot 
must  be  looked  upon  as  brutal,  as  a  Diogenes,  for  having  taken 
upon  him  to  think  that  an  infidel  lies  when  he  asserts  that  ho 
is  a  Christian ! 

XXI. 

WANT    OF   CANDOR    OF   AUTHORS    OF    THE    PRESENT   DAY. 

Those  falsehoods  have  not  ended  with  the  despotism  which 
served  as  their  excuse.  You  will  find  them  still  under  a 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  101 

tnousand  forms  in  books,  in  newspapers,  and  in  the  language 
and  usages  of  the  present  day. 

These  farms  may  be  reduced  however  to  two ;  the  Christian 
falsehood,  and  the  Catholic  falsehood. 

The  Christian  falsehood,  is  that  varnish  of  Christianity  which 
is  unscrupulously  thrown,  at  the  present  day,  over  so  many 
ideas  more  or  less  immoral,  sentiments  more  or  less  false,  and 
theories  more  or  less  dangerous.  There  is  in  this,  it  is  not  to 
be  denied,  a  certain  homage  paid  to  the  divinity, — or  at  least 
to  the  beauty  of  Christianity.  Very  few  books  now  breathe 
that  brutal  antagonism,  that  deep  hatred,  by  which  it  was  for- 
merly considered  good  taste  to  distinguish  one's  self;  reserv- 
ing the  privilege  indeed,  if  Messieurs  should  be  angry  at  it,  of 
writing  that  there  had  been  no  intention  to  attack  any  of  the 
truths  of  religion.  Our  authors  generally  try  to  avoid  any 
reproach  of  this  kind.  Instead  of  waiting  for  Christianity  to 
be  invoked  against  them,  they  invoke  it  themselves  ;  and  that 
which  they  dare  not  put  forth  in  opposition  to  it,  they  hasten 
to  place  under  its  protection.  They  no  longer  assert,  at  the 
commencement  of  an  infidel  book,  that  they  intend  living  and 
dying  in  the  faith,  but  they  will  take  care,  as  they  go  on  their 
way,  to  scatter  about  just  enough  .religious  words  and  express- 
ions to  delude  the  ignorant, — and  the  ignorant  in  matters  con- 
cerning religion,  as  we  have  already  said,  are  the  great  ma- 
jority of  mankind,  including  often  those  who  are  the  most  con- 
scientious and  able  in  regard  to  all  other  matters. 

And  this,  as  we  have  already  observed  elsewhere,  causes 
the  success  of  the  second,  which  we  have  called  the  Catholic 
falsehood.  The  ignorance  of  the  age  in  religious  matters  is 
nowhere  more  striking  than  in  the  facility  with  which  people 
pass  from  one  to  the  other  of  these. 

If  our  authors  are  many  of  them  not  Christians,  they  are 
evidently  still  less  Catholics ;  if  they  only  accept  with  privilege 


102  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

of  choice  the  simplest  and  most  explicit  teachings  of  Christi 
anity,  still  more  largely  do  they  claim  the  right  of  choosing 
among  those  of  the  Church.  And  yet  this  Church,  to  which 
in  fact  they  refuse  all  authority,  this  church  to  which  they  are 
perfectly  well  aware  that  they  do  not  belong,  that  they  never 
did  belong,  that  they  cannot  belong  without  denying  all  that 
they  have  written ;  this  Church  whose  pretensions,  in  short, 
they  know,  and  which  they  would  deny  with  scorn  if  she 
should  attempt  to  exercise  them  in  regard  to  them, — this 
Church  receives  from  them,  as  they  pass  on,  a  thousand  little 
marks  of  respect ;  they  flatter  her  as  if  they  feared  her,  praise 
her  as  if  they  esteemed  her,  authorize  her,  in  a  word,  to  look 
upon  them  as  her  children  and  champions. 

Accordingly,  there  are  now  seen  no  more  of  those  grossly 
false  recantations  formerly  forced  from  fear ;  but  in  their  stead 
a  thousand  recantations  in  detail,  a  thousand  falsehoods  which 
the  Church  finds  still  more  to  her  advantage,  because  their 
falsity  is  less  apparent,  and  because  the  authors  themselves,  the 
greater  part  of  the  time,  do  not  pay  enough  attention  to  the 
matter  to  see  that  they  are  falsifying.  How  many  fine  things, 
for  example,  do  we  not  hear,  in  regard  to  unity  !  And  yet, 
among  those  who  laud  it,  who  openly  assert  that  it  is  the  first 
characteristic  of  a  true  and  holy  Church,  how  many  do  you 
find  who  contribute  to  this  unity  1  How  many  who  are  really 
in  subjection  to  the  laws  which  establish  it  in  appearance  1 
How  many  who  would  remain  submissive  if  the  application  of 
these  laws  to  them  should  be  attempted  ? 

The  Church  in  fact  takes  good  care  not  to  attempt  this ;  but 
at  the  bottom  of  this  toleration  there  is  the  same  principle 
which  formerly  inspired  her  severities.  For  a  long  time  she 
burnt  unorthodox  authors,  and  thanks  to  the  Church  this  cus- 
tom had  so  thoroughly  entered  into  the  customs  of  Christian 
nations,  that  the  Protestants  themselves  took  some  little  time 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  103 

to  get  rid  )f  it.  After  awhile  the  books  only  were  burned  ; 
the  authors  escaped  all  pursuit  by  means  of  a  few  words  of 
recantation.  At  length  they  no  longer  burned  either  authors 
or  books ;  it  was  for  the  authors  to  decide  what  they  would 
offer  as  their  ransom.  In  an  age  of  liberty  it  was  the  best  and 
only  method  of  obtaining  anything  more  from  them.  Well,  this 
Church,  now  so  accommodating,  but  so  savagely  exacting,  as 
long  as  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  be  so,  is  still  the  same ;  this 
velvet  hand  which  she  now  extends  to  you,  is  the  same  iron  one 
which  would  have  cast  you  into  the  flames.  The  same  princi- 
ple lies  beneath  her  present  indulgence  and  her  rigors  of  for- 
mer days ; — unity  at  all  risks.  She  knew  that  she  did  not 
convert  the  people  whom  she  used  to  burn,  or  whom  she 
forced  to  recant ;  and  she  knows  well  that  the  people  whom  she 
allows  to  say  or  think  that  they  are  her  children,  are  not  so. 
In  both  cases,  accordingly,  what  she  desired  above  all  was  fair 
appearance.  In  spite  of  the  words  of  Christ,  her  kingdom  is 
essentially  of  this  world.  It  is  her  chief  glory,  and  it  will  be 
her  chief  punishment. 

XXII. 

HELVETIUS    BECOMES    THOUGHTFUL. SAD    DISCOVERY   CAUSING 

SERIOUS   REFLECTIONS. 

"  But  you  are  crazy  !  Diderot !"  cried  all  the  guests. 

"  Ah !"  he  cried,  when  they  had  dragged  him  away  from  the 
window  ;  "  ah !  you  must  tamper  with  the  wretch !  You  wish 
to  restore  her  strength  to  her,  and  show  her  that  she  is  very 
kind  not  to  burn  anything  more  than  paper!  Very  good, 
gentlemen,  very  good !  But  I  shall  not  do  it !  I  shall  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  I  swear  !  Recantations  !  Recantations  !" 

And  he  had  already  reached  the  stairs.  They  endeavored, 
but  in  vain,  to  retain  him. 


104  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Let  hirr  go,"  said  Helvetius.  "  Let  his  anger  pass.  I  was 
wrong — " 

"  Wrong  in  what  ?"  asked  Grimm. 

"  Oh  !  to  pour  him  out  three  or  four  glasses  of  champagne," 
said  Morellet.  "  Was  not  that  what  you  were  going  to  say  ?" 

But  Helvetius  was  still  thoughtful. 

"  A  fine  commotion,"  said  Raynal. 

"  And  a  breakfast  finely  interrupted,"  added  doctor  Roux, 
who  had  not  left  his  place. 

"  The  thing  is  done  !"  said  Damilaville.  "  The  fire  is  going 
out.  Peace  to  your  ashes ! — Ah !  another  decree  ?" 

It  was  the  one  which  we  have  already  laid  before  the  reader. 
It  may  be  remembered  that  the  bailiff  found  his  voice.  He 
was  very  distinctly  heard. 

"  Protestants  ?"  said  Helvetius,  sadly.  "  They  do  not  re- 
cant,— the  Protestants  !" 

"  Diderot  would  tell  you,"  said  d'Holbach,  "  that  it  is  be- 
cause they  are  neither  farmers  of  the  revenues,  nor  masters  of 
the  queen's  household." 

"  He  would  perhaps  be  right.  But  no.  If  they  do  not  re- 
cant, it  is  because  they  believe.  We  only  think  of  man,  and 
we  recant ;  but  they  think  of  God,  and  they  stand  firm.  But 
listen — '  Books  found  in  the  hands  of  Dumont.  Fifteen  hun- 
dred livres  fine,  of  which  one-third  falls  to  the  informant, — who 
has  requested  not  to  be  named — '  Ah !  Good  Heavens !" 

"  That  does  look  badly  enough,"  said  d'Alembert.  "  The 
third  of  fifteen  hundred  livres  is  five  hundred, — just  what  your 
brave  lad,  the  clerk  at  Dumont's,  has  received  from  his  pre- 
tended cousin.  Another  lesson,  my  dear  philosopher !  You 
have  prepared  this  little  nest  for  a  viper.  What !  you  are  cast 
down !  Did  you  think  that  your  charities  were  never  bestowed 
upon  any  but  good  people  ?" 

"No;  but—" 


•     THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  105 

He  hesitated. 

"But  what?" 

"  Gentlemen,"  interrupte J  Grimm,  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you, 
apropos  to  Father  Bridaine,  that  he  is  to  preach  on  Monday  at 
Saint-Sulpice.  All  Paris  will  be  there." 

"  And  all  Versailles,"  added  Damilaville. 

"Shall  we  go?" 

"Why  not?" 

"It  is  iwlerstood,  then.     Who  will  bring  Diderot?" 

"  I  will  take  it  upon  me,"  said  Morellet. 

"  Good.     It  will  suit  him,  since  he  belongs  to  the  trade." 

"To  the  trade?     Diderot?" 

The  story  of  the  six  sermons  was  related.  Grimm  added 
the  account  of  the  journey  to  Meaux,  and  the  visit  to  the  bishop. 

The  books  were  still  burning.  Puffs  of  smoke  came  from 
time  to  time  through  the  window.  They  closed  it,  and  went 
on  talking. 

But  nothing  could  amuse  Helvetius.  He  hardly  listened, 
and  scarcely  answered.  They  at  length  went  away,  and  he 
was  left  alone  with  d'Alembert. 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  said  the  latter.  "  You 
must  have  been  very  much  interested  in  this  young  man,  since 
you  are  so  troubled  at  having  discovered — ': 

"  I  myself,  d'Alembert,  am  the  guilty  one." 

"You?" 

*'  This  young  man,  a  year  ago,  was  a  model  of  fidelity.  I 
was  so  unfortunate  as  to  lend  him  my  book." 

"  Your  book  ?  Well,  in  that  you  advocate  nothing  but  vir- 
tue, disinterestedness,  honesty." 

Helvetius  shook  his  head. 

"  Virtue — virtue.  Yes,  in  fact,  this  word  occurs  very  often 
in  the  book.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether,  with  our  princi- 
ples, it  can  be  anything  more  than  a  word." 

"  These  are  scruples — " 


106  RABAUT     AND     BKIDAIXE,     OR* 

"  Too  well  founded,  d'Alembert.  This  young  man  believed 
in  God ;  he  does  so  no  longer." 

"  It  is  not  your  fault,  then.  You  do  not  teach  atheism." 
"  Not  entirely.  But  it  might  be  questioned  whether,  in  our 
systems,  God  is  really  anything  more  than  a  word.  As  for 
myself,  I  have  more  than  once  confessed  to  myself,  while 
writing,  that  if  1  spoke  of  Him,  it  was — what  shall  I  call  it  ? — 
from  complaisance,  from  politeness,  as  it  were.  God,  you  see, 
is  necessarily  all  or  nothing.  If  it  is  not  He  who  moves  the 

ty 

car,  He  is  nothing  more  than  a  fifth  wheel.  Well,  in  spite  of 
all  our  fine  speeches,  we  reduce  Him  to  this  lowest  position. 
So  long  as  we  only  theorize,  we  may  deceive  ourselves  in  respect 
to  this :  it  may  be  fancied,  if  our  tirades  are  believed,  that  we 
believe  in  God.  But  let  an  opportunity  come  for  acting  as  if 
we  did  not  believe  in  Him,  and  see  then  what  will  happen." 

"Messieurs  of  the  parliament,"  said  d'Alembert,  "would 
doubtless  be  agreeably  surprised  if  they  learned  that  their  de- 
cree had  led  you  to  make  such  reflections." 

"  I  am  not  one  of  those,"  resumed  Helvetius,  "  who  think 
that  a  book  is  good,  only  because  it  is  condemned  to  be  burned. 
Besides,  as  you  have  seen,  it  is  not  the  condemnation  of  the 
parliament  which  has  caused  these  sad  reflections ;  it  is  another 
condemnation  much  more  conclusive,  which  this  wretched  man 
has  pronounced  by  showing  the  effects  which  the  reading  of 
my  book  has  produced  upon  him.  D'Alembert,  you  talk  in 
vain.  This  is  a  worse  chastisement  than  all  the  censures  and 
decrees  in  the  world.  If  this  God  whom  we  dethrone  really 
exists,  do  you  know  what  would  be  the  best  thing  He  could 
do  to  punish  us  ?"  "  Well— what  ?" 

"  To  allow  us  to  live  another  century,  and  to  make  us  assist 
in  harvesting  the  tempests  which  we  are  now  sowing." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  10T 


XXIII. 

NOBLE   CAREER   OF  ANTOINE   COURT. 

Let  us  accompany  Bridaine  in  his  visit  to  him  who  was 
mentioned  by  the  Cevenol  as  the  friend  of  Rabaut. 

Being  ignorant  of  his  address,  he  thought  he  might  procure 
it  from  the  door-keeper  of  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions.  He 
did  so.  Gebelin  lived  in  the  Rue  des  Menestriers. 

Court  de  Gobelin  had  been  for  some  time  the  central  agent 
of  the  French  Protestants.  A  singular  toleration  had  allowed 
him  to  take  this  title  almost  officially.  The  Protestants,  ac- 
cording to  the  last  edicts  of  Louis  XIV.,  were  no  longer  even 
rebels  for  whom  pardon  might  be  demanded ;  they  no  longer 
existed ;  their  name  was  banished  from  the  official  decrees;*' — 
and  yet  at  Paris,  at  Versailles,  in  the  ministerial  offices,  in  the 
saloons,  everywhere,  a  man  was  allowed  to  go  about  unceas- 
ingly, with  their  grievances  in  his  mouth,  and  their  petitions  in 
his  hand. 

Tliis  single  fact  is  enough  to  show  how  undecided  and  de- 
sultory was  the  despotism  of  this  epoch.  At  the  very  time 
when  the  most  atrocious  severities  in  the  provinces  sullied 
those  who  instigated  them,  the  man  who  passed  his  life  in 

*  They  were  called  new  converts.  We  shall  see  further  on  what  this 
signified,  and  what  au  iufernal  meaning  had  been  given  to  the  word. 


108  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIKE,     OR 

branding  them  was  allowed  to  have  his  liberty  in  the  midst  of 
the  capital.  The  very  name  Gebelin,  a  protest  against  th< 
barbarous  laws  which  oppressed  his  brethren  in  the  faith,  was 
only  one  of  the  surnames  which  had  aided  his  father,  Antoine 
Court,  to  elude  the  blood-hounds  of  the  great  king. 

Antoine  Court !  Another  of  those  men  who  need  only  have 
been  placed  in  another  sphere,  in  order  to  be  universally  counted 
among  the  illustrious  of  their  day,  and  the  regenerators  of  their 
country. 

It  was  in  1713.  Languedoc,  after  all  the  ravages  of  the 
Camisard  war,  had  borne  its  share  of  the  general  calamities. 
To  the  rigors  of  oppression  were  added  those  of  the  disastrous 
winter  of  1709.  Levies  of  troops  and  enormous  contributions 
had  been  exacted  from  this  unhappy  country.  It  might  have 
drawn  tears  of  blood  from  those  who  had  seen  it  before  the 
revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes. 

That  which  distressed  them  more  than  anything  else,  was  the 
internal  state  of  the  few  remains  of  their  churches.  No  longei 
was  there  any  organization,  nor  were  there  consistories,  nor 
pastors.  War  and  persecution  had  broken,  annihilated  all. 
Among  the  unfortunates  who  vegetated  upon  this  soil  crimsoned 
with  the  blood  of  their  brethren,  were  some  who  resigned  all 
hope,  and  waited  for  rest  in  death  alone ;  while  others  gave 
themselves  up  to  all  the  aberrations  of  a  fanaticism  more  fatal 
than  persecution  itself.  Prophets  and  prophetesses,  poor 
creatures  crazed  by  the  magnitude  of  their  perils,  seriously 
compromised  the  solemn  heritage  of  Saurin,  Jurieu  and  Claude. 
Disorder  and  ridicule  threatened  to  finish  what  the  fire  and 
sword  had  spared. 

Such  was  the  chaos  hi  the  midst  of  which  we  perceive  the 
appearance  of  Antoine  Court.  He  is  not  eighteen  years  of  age, 
and  his  plan  is  already  formed.  He  will  gather  together  these 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  109 

scattered  remains.  He  will  appoint  himself  aids.  He  will  ex- 
cite some,  and  calm  others.  He  will  go  to  the  desert  and  set 
up  that  pulpit  which  has  been  torn  from  the  churches  ;  he  will 
ascend  it,  calm  and  discreet,  and  religion  shall  no  longer  speak 
any  but  a  language  worthy  of  her.  He  will  have  consistories 
with  their  elders,  their  deacons,  their  pastors  regularly  in- 
stalled ;  there  shall  again  be  seen  conferences  and  synods ;  in 
short,  all  the  former  Church,  in  form  and  principles,  zeal  and 
order,  discipline  and  faith,  shall  reappear.  And  that  which 
others  would  not  venture  to  attempt  in  times  of  peace,  with  the 
aid  and  approbation  of  the  powerful  of  this  world,  he  will  un- 
dertake, he,  hunted,  outlawed,  without  other  support  than  his 
faith,  without  other  aid  than  that  of  God. 

Thus  planned  and  thus  performed  Antoine  Court.  We  shall 
not  follow  him  through  the  details  of  his  long  and  laborious 
career.  Of  the  five  pastors  who  had  in  1717  signed  with  him 
the  report  of  the  first  synod  held  under  his  direction,  four* 
within  a  few  years,  had  perished  on  the  scaffold ;  but  on  the 
other  hand,  towards  1744,  in  the  same  places  where  he  had  at 
first  had  so  much  trouble  to  assemble  fifteen,  thirty,  an  hundred 
persons, — there  were  now  held  meetings  of  five  thousand,  of 
eight  thousand,  to  whom  he  had  the  joy  of  preaching,  or  of 
hearing  Rabaut  preach.  He  had  been  at  first  the  only  pastor ; 
he  left  sixty. 

Enthusiasm  has  more  than  once,  in  a  shorter  period,  pro- 
duced more  striking  results ;  but  the  carrying  on  during  thirty 
years,  step  by  step,  in  the  midst  of  unceasing  perils,  without 
appealing  to  enthusiasm  in  the  beginning,  but  on  the  contrary 
repressing  it, — of  so  great  and  so  difficult  a  reorganization, — is 
a  miracle  of  perseverance  and  courage  such  as  history  has  sel- 
dom, perhaps  never,  been  called  upon  to  record. 
*  Hue,  Yesson,  Aruaud,  and  Durand. 


110  RABAUT     AND     BBIDAINE,     OR 

XXIV. 

LITERARY  LABORS  OF  COURT  DE  GEBELIN. 

Court  died  in  1760.  Early  worn  out  by  the  labors  of  this 
fearful  mission,  he  had  gone  to  Lausanne  to  place  himself  at 
the  head  of  a  seminary  in  that  place,  founded  by  him  about 
1725,  with  the  aid  of  a  few  foreign  sovereigns. 

The  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Lord  Wake,  and  the  celebrat- 
ed Alphonse  Turretin,  professor  at  Geneva,  had  actively  assist- 
ed in  the  founding  of  this  establishment.  There,  went  on  in 
silence,  the  work  which  Louis  XIV.  believed  buried  beneath 
the  ruins  of  the  schools  of  Saumur  and  of  Sedan  ;  there  were 
gathered  together  from  all  parts  of  the  kingdom,  those  who 
were  conscious,  as  Court  said,  of  the  vocation  of  martyrs. 
There  his  son  had  studied, — he  whom  we  now  perceive  estab- 
lished at  Paris;  there,  at  this  time,  was  the  eldest  son  of 
Rabaut,  afterwards  known  by  the  name  of  Saint-Etienne. — who 
was  one  day  to  perish  on  a  different  scaffold  from  that  which 
his  father  had  braved. 

Heir  to  these  glorious  traditions,  Court  de  Gebelin  had,  how- 
ever, not  taken  an  active  share  in  the  ministry.  Not  because 
he  did  not  feel  as  much  as  any  of  the  ethers,  and  even  more, 
the  vocation  exacted  by  his  father.  Before  quitting  Lausanne, 
he  had  joyfully  received  his  qualification  for  the  gallows,  as  it 
was  called.  But  from  his  youth  he  had  been  remarkable  for 
talents  so  uncommon,  that  the  most  zealous  hesitated  to  place 
such  a  stake  on  the  fearful  risks  of  the  Protestant  apostleship. 
It  was  perceived  that  his  place  was  in  the  centre,  that  in  that 
position  he  could  be  of  great  service,  and  there  had  been  but 
one  opinion  in  regard  to  his  deciding  upon  it.  A  general  tour 


THE     COUKT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  Ill 

throughout  the  provinces  had  made  him  acquainted  with  their 
sufferings,  their  necessities,  their  wishes.  Rabaut  was  to  be 
the  bishop,  as  he  had  already  been  for  a  long  time,  and  Court 
the  minister  of  the  forms  of  worship. 

Let  us  visit  him  in  his  house  in  the  Rue  des  Menestriers, 
where  we  shall  soon  see  Bridaine  make  his  appearance. 

We  are  in  his  study.  At  first  view,  we  might  suppose  our- 
selves again  in  that  of  d'Alembert.  But  let  us  approach. 
Never  has  such  a  medley  of  work  and  business  offered  itself  to 
our  observation. 

Court  is  seated  before  a  large  table,  upon  which  are  piled 
books  of  every  shape,  and  letters  in  every  imaginable  hand ;  a 
vast  chaos  in  which  you  will  never  see  him  lose  himself  or  even 
hesitate  for  a  moment.  Two  different  sheets  of  paper  are  be- 
fore him,  upon  both  of  which  he  has  begun  to  write.  One  is  a 
petition  to  the  Count  de  Saint-Florentin,*  the  other  a  memorial 
to  the  president  Des  Brosses.  "  Yes,  Monsieur,"  he  writes  in 
the  latter,  "  I  have  found  more  than  three  hundred  French 
words  which  are  indisputably  derived  from  the  Arabic, — " 
"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  he  writes  in  the  former, "  it  is  now  two  years 
since  Fabre  was  sent  to  the  galleys  on  account  of  an  action  for 
which  in  ancient  times  he  would  have  been  crowned."  He 
adds  a  sentence  to  one,  and  a  sentence  to  the  other,  which  does 
not  prevent  him,  as  he  goes  on,  from  thinking  of  this  and  that 
other  work,  which  he  also  has  on  hand,  and  which  he  suddenly 
goes  to  look  for,  in  some  drawer,  in  order  to  change  a  word, 
or  add  some  note  or  detail.  You  fancy  that  these  two  closed 
books  upon  which  he  rests  his  elbow,  are  to  aid  him  in  the 

*  Minister  of  the  kind's  household,  and  charged,  from  this  title,  with 
all  that  concerned  the  Protestants.  The  persecution  was  set  down  in  the 
list  of  the  king's  private  affairs,  as  if  it  were  feared  that  the  glory  of  it 
would  otherwise  not  be  sufficiently  ascribed  to  him. 


112  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

same  researches  ?  No,  one  is  the  polyglott  of  Alcala,  quite 
surprised  to  see  itself  in  heretic  hands  ;  the  other  is  the  Mar- 
tyrology  of  Crespin,  that  sombre  legend  of  French  protestant- 
ism. There  are  scarcely  a  dozen  copies  of  it  left  in  the  king- 
dom, it  has  been  so  hunted  after,  and  so  many  have  been 
burned !  There,  are  the  ancients,  opened  in  many  places ; 
there,  quite  recent  works,  in  which  his  searching  pencil  has 
already  noted  many  a  page.  Here  is  the  Worship  of  Fetish 
Deities,  by  president  des  Brosses  ;  here  the  History  of  Yemen, 
and  the  Table  of  Arabic  Kings,  by  the  marquis  de  Brequigny  ; 
here  the  Explanation  of  the  Mosaic  of  Pales trina,  by  the  abbe 
Arnaud ;  here  a  Treatise  on  Mathematical  Infinitude,  by  the 
Genevese  Achard,  judge  at  Berlin ;  here  a  memorial  on  the 
Chinese,  by  Monsieur  de  Guignes,  of  the  Academy  of  Inscrip- 
tions ;  here  an  answer  to  the  memorial,  Doubts,  by  Deshautes- 
raies ;  here  a  Theory  of  Taxes,  for  which  its  author,  the  marquis 
de  Mirabeau,  is  at  this  moment  under  lock  and  key ;  here  the 
History  of  Wigs,  by  Thiefs,  a  doctor  of  theology,  with  Greek 
and  Hebrew  quotations ;  here,  in  a  word  is  all  that  the  first  six 
months  of  1760  have  produced  of  archaeological  labors,  and 
learned  novelties.  But  whilst  the  age  has  become  learned  in 
order  to  amuse  itself,  in  order  to  fill  by  means  of  labors  of  the 
head,  that  vacuum  which  departed  faith  has  left  in  the  heart, — 
he,  a  man  of  faith  above  all,  brings  his  tablet  to  the  temple  of 
science,  because  he  wishes  that  it  may  be  a  temple  to  God. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  113 


XXV. 

OFBELIN    AND    THE    BOOKSELLER. GREAT    DIFFICULTY    WITH 

WHICH    THE    HUGUENOTS    WERE    ABLE    TO     PRESERVE 
THEIR    BIBLES    AND    RELIGIOUS    BOOKS. 

He  has  finished  writing,  and  rises. 

"  Eleven  o'clock,  already,  and  I  have  not  yet  received  my 
letters.  And  Rabaut  does  not  return." 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  a  moment,  with  his  arms 
folded. 

"  Here  he  is,  I  believe — Ah  !  it  is  you,  Dumont — " 

'•  Ah  !  Monsieur — " 

"  Did  you  go  to  see  the  burning  1" 

"  Ah !  Monsieur,  do  not  jest.  Do  you  know  who  it  was 
that  betrayed  us  ?  My  clerk — " 

"  The  protege  of  Monsieur  Helvetius  ?" 

"  The  same." 

"  How  did  you  discover  it  ?" 

"  It  would  be  a  long  story ;  but  the  thing  is  certain,  too  cer- 
tain. He  confesses,  for  that  matter. 

"  You  have  turned  him  off1?" 

"  Certainly ;  but  what  is  to  be  gained  by  it  ?  I  shall  be 
watched  now." 

"  They  have  other  things  to  do,  Dumont.  I  am  going  to 
see  these  gentlemen,  besides ;  I  wish  to  make  them  feel  a 
little  ashamed  of  their  decree." 

"  Good.  But  the  fine,  in  the  meantime  ?  I  have  advanced 
it,  you  know." 

"  The  fine  ]  I  shall  of  course  repay  yo  i — as  soon  as  I  can. 
Just  at  present  I  have  not  a  crown.  I  have  sent  off  within  the 
last  few  day  all  the  funds  I  had  left.  Two  hundred  livres  to 


114  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXK,     OR 

the  galleys  at  Toulon ;  two  hundred  to  those  at  Marseilles, 
and  one  hundred  to  our  prisoners  of  Aignes  Mortes.  All  to- 
gether just  what  this  miserable  clerk  received  !  How  bad  laws 
instigate  bad  actions  !  If  the  privilege  of  remaining  unknown 
had  not  been  offered  him,  would  he  have  dreamed  of  betray- 
ing us  1  And  this  fine,  for  his  profit !  The  time  will  come 
when  it  will  be  asked  how  there  ever  could  have  existed  such 
immoral  laws,  or  judges  who  did  not  recoil  before  the  immor- 
ality of  executing  them.  But  after  all,  thank  God,  they  did 
not  find  a  great  deal — " 

"  Not  one  quarter  of  what  I  had  in  my  back  shop.  Now 
everything  is  in  the  cellar.  If  they  come  back — " 

"  They  will  not  come  back.     There  remain — " 

"  One  hundred  Bibles,  I  believe,  and  eight  hundred  New 
Testaments.  As  for  catechisms,  there  are  perhaps  three  thou- 
sand, besides  the  psalm  books  and  the  collections  of  prayers." 

"  Nearly  as  many,  in  fact,  as  were  seized  two  years  ago, 
with  Jean  Carbiere,  at  Bordeaux.  That  was  a  fire,  Dumont  !* 
Compared  with  that,  what  was  the  affair  of  this  morning  1  We 
are  rich." 

"  With  a  buried  treasure." 

"  Buried,  indeed,  since  it  is  in  your  cellar.  It  must  be  taken 
out  of  there,  however.  On  all  sides  I  am  now  asked  for  books. 
In  Guyenne,  since  the  great  burning  at  Bordeaux,  they  do  not 
know  where  to  get  any.  In  Beam,  in  Poitou,  in  Dauphiny, 
the  pastors  lament  that  they  receive  so  few.  At  Nimes,  the 
depots  will  soon  be  exhausted.  Happily  it  is  the  season  for 
the  fair  of  Beaucaire.  All  my  measures  are  taken.  In  a 
month,  Dumont,  your  cellar  is  empty." 

"God  grant  it!" 

*  About  sixteen  thousand  volumes  were  burned  at  Bordeaux,  the  17th 
tf  April,  1758. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XT.  115 

"  He  will  grant  it.  Here  are  my  letters,  I  believe.  There 
ought  to  be  replies  upon  this  very  subject." 

The  fair  of  Beaucaire  had  many  a  time  come  in  season  to 
aid  the  spiritual  purveyors  of  the  Protestants  of  the  South. 
During  this  great  transportation  of  people  and  goods,  pastors 
and  books  could  circulate  with  a  little  less  danger.  Eabaut 
had  even  adopted  sometimes,  upon  these  occasions,  the  char- 
icter  of  a  merchant  of  fine  pearls,  doubtless  in  innocent  allusion 
to  the  pearl  of  great  price,  under  which  emblem,  the  Bible  has 
designated  itself.  It  was  true,  that  even  at  Beaucaire,  in  1735, 
there  had  been  an  auto-da-fe  almost  equal  to  that  at  Bordeaux ; 
but  these  checks,  very  rare,  moreover,  only  served  to  call 
forth  the  invention  of  new  methods  of  transportation. 

The  books  generally  came  from  Holland  through  Paris,  and 
from  Geneva  through  Lyons  or  Grenoble.  In  all  the  cities 
there  were  merchants  who  could  be  depended  upon,  and  who 
acted  as  intermediaries.  Inside  of  bales  of  goods,  and  in  cases 
and  barrels  of  provisions,  sometimes  without  any  other  pre- 
caution than  a  thick  envelope  and  a  false  label,  thousands  of 
volumes  went  from  North  to  South,  from  East  to  West,  from 
the  free  to  their  oppressed  brethren.  But  in  the  midst  of  these 
courageous  frauds,  Protestant  authority  was  on  the  watch  that 
nothing  should  be  done  save  what  necessity  rendered  legiti- 
mate. A  decree  of  the  synod  of  1734,  excommunicates  who- 
soever should  by  fraud  enter  anything  besides  these  religious 
books.  Difficult  as  it  was  to  procure  a  sufficient  number  of 
these,  it  was  often  still  more  so  to  preserve  them.  Various 
edicts,  renewed  in  1729,  had  commanded  the  seizure  and  de- 
struction of  all  books  employed  by  Protestants.  In  the  first 
requisition  it  was  enjoined  upon  them  to  bring  these  them- 
selves ;  if  not,  an  arbitrary*  fine,  fixed  upon  them  by  the  in- 

*  This  word  is  in  the  edict  of  1729,  and  in  almost  all  those  which 


llG  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

tendant  of  the  province.  In  case  of  a  second  offence,  another 
arbitrary  fine,  but  which  must  not  be  less  than  a  chird  of  the 
culprit's  possession ;  finally,  three  years  of  banishment.  All 
information  was  received ;  any  consul  of  a  commune,  or  any 
priest,  might  enter  the  houses  and  make  the  necessary  search. 
It  is  by  millions,  therefore,  that  we  must  compute  the  volumes 
destroyed  in  conformity  to  these  edicts ;  for  instruction,  the 
companion  of  the  Eeformation,  had  multiplied  books  among 
all  ranks,  throughout  Protestant  France.  It  was  a  sad  day 
when  the  old  family  Bible  must  be  given  up,  the  book  doubly 
revered,  sacred  because  it  was  the  Bible,  and  sacred  from  the 
recollections  connected  with  it!  Children,  parents,  grand- 
parents, all,  from  their  earliest  years,  had  daily  seen  and 
touched  it.  It  had  been  present,  like  the  household  deities  of 
the  ancients,  at  all  the  joys  and  all  the  sorrows  of  the  family. 
A  touching  custom  had  inscribed  on  its  first  or  its  last  leaves, 
sometimes  even  on  the  margin  of  its  pages,  the  principal 
events  in  all  these  humble  lives.  In  such  a  year,  on  such  a 
day,  a  child  was  born, — and  this  child  was  perhaps  the  grand- 
father, even  the  great-grandfather,  of  the  father  or  grandfather 
now  living,  for  these  Bibles  dated  for  the  most  part  from  the 
earliest  times  of  the  Reformation.  Then  there  were  marriages, 
and  baptisms,  and  deaths,  and  other  births.  And  now  all 
these  pious  monuments  must  perish  at  once  in  the  flames  ! 

epeak  of  pecuniary  penalties  o  be  inflicted  upon  the  Protestants.  The 
right  of  confiscation,  ao  odious  even  in  the  hands  of  princes  or  tribunals, 
existed,  iii  fact,  in  those  of  the  lowest  intendants. 


THE     COUBT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  11T 


XXVI. 

GEBELIN'S    CORRESPONDENCE. 

Court  had  just  received  his  letters,  through  the  hands  of  a 
confidential  bearer.  Two  or  three  bore  his  address ;  the  others 
had  been  received  by  different  persons  in  Paris,  for  although 
the  police  appeared  to  close  their  eyes,  it  had  been  judged 
more  prudent  not  to  draw  attention  to  his  immense  corre- 
spondence. There  were  also  two  for  Rabaut, — for  Monsieur 
Tuabar,  for  that  it  will  be  remembered,  was  his  name  when  in 
Paris. 

"  Well,  Dumont,  what  did  I  tell  you  ?"  cried  Court,  after 
having  opened  one  by  hazard.  "  See, — read.  This,  however, 
does  not  come  very  far.  It  is  from  my  friend  Delabroue,  chap- 
lain to  the  embassy  from  Holland.  It  is  true  that  I  wrote 
him  yesterday." 

Dumont  took  the  letter  and  read : 

"'I  had  not  waited  until  I  received  your  note,  my  dear 
friend  and  brother,  in  order  to  busy  myself  about  the  matter 
of  which  you  speak.  I  wrote  without  delay  to  our  friends  in 
Holland,  and  I  hope  that  they  will  soon  collect  the  sum.  But 
as  the  reply  cannot  be  received  for  several  days,  I  have  -con- 
trived to  procure  the  fifteen  hundred  livres,  and  you  will  re- 
ceive them  in  the  course  of  the  day.  May  God  send  you  no 
worse  trial,  and  all  will  be  well.  Your  friend  aud  brother. 

" '  P.  S. — I  have  just  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  my  work. 
The  title  embarrasses  me  a  little.  It  will  be,  I  think,  The 
Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ  in  regard  to  Toleration.  What  do  you 
think  of  it  f  " 

"  I  shall  reflect  upon  it,"  said  Court.     "  In  the  meantime, 


118  KAHAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

your  fine  is  ready.  Ah !  some  more  money  !  But  I  expected 
this.  The  quarter  day  is  here,  and  this  is  the  addition  to  the 
salaries  of  the  pastors  which  is  sent  by  the  committee  at 
Geneva."* 

"  That  is  to  be  sent  to  Nimes  ]"  said  the  bookseller. 

x'  To  Nimes,  Alais  and  Toulouse.  By  the  way,  I  have  some 
one  who  takes  the  charge  of  sending  it.  It  is  a  Genevese, 
named  Necker,  employed  in  the  house  of  Thelusson,  brothers." 

"  The  Necker  who  is  said  to  be  so  intelligent  ?" 

"  Yes ;  a  young  man  who  will  make  his  way.  Ah !  here  is 
what  I  was  looking  for, — an  excellent  letter  from  Beaucaire. 
Take  it.  Everything  is  marked,  I  see;  the  addresses,  the 
statements  to  be  made.  Good.  Your  cellar  will  be  empty 
in  a  week,  instead  of  a  month,  Master  Dumont, — at  least  un- 
less something  arrives  with  which  we  must  fill  it  again." 

He  went  away,  half  contented,  half  uneasy.  He  was  one  of 
those  Protestants  of  which  many  were  to  be  found  in  the  large 
cities,  Protestant  enough  at  heart,  but  little  desirous  of  com 
promising  themselves.  Shall  we  cast  the  first  stone  at  them  1 
Let  us  remember  the  difficulties  of  their  position.  The  least 
infringement  of  an  edict  might  be  followed  by  terrible  punish- 
ments. It  was  an  indulgence  that  the  parliament  had  not  con- 
demned Dumont  to  close  his  shop ;  and  if  they  had  had  the 
slightest  desire  to  send  him  to  the  galleys,  they  might  easily 
have  found  more  than  one  clause  in  these  same  edicts  to  which 
he  could  have  found  nothing'  to  reply.  Guillaume  Issoire  had 
been  sent  thither  for  having  received  barrels  marked  Black 
and  white  peas,  which  had  been  found  full  of  Ostervald's  cate- 
chisms. Besides,  Dumont  passed  for  a  Catholic.  The  forced 

*  The  salaries  of  the  pastors  were  at  this  time  from  seven  to  eight 
hundred  franca.  The  addition  sent  from  Geneva  was  three  hundred  aud 
Vty. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  119 

abjuration  of  his  father  had  transmitted  him  this  title,  which 
he  retained,  like  so  many  others,  because  he  had  need  of  it  in 
order  to  live.  If  this  was  hypocrisy,  whose  fault  was  it? 
That  of  the  unhappy  creatures  who  submitted  to  it  as  to  a  dis- 
grace, or  of  those  who  made  it  necessary  for  them  to  do  so  ? 

XXVII. 

RABAUT. DISHONESTY     OF     THE     ROMISH     CHURCH. 

Left  alone,  Court  again  went  to  his  letters.  He  had  before 
him  a  kind  of  registry,  in  which,  as  he  went  along,  he  wrote 
what  he  did  not  wish  to  forget. 

"  To  write  to  Monsieur  de  Voltaire,  in  order  that  he  shall 
interest  himself  for  the  galley  slave,  Chaumont  of  Geneva, 
condemned  for  life,  in  '51,  by  Monsieur  de  Saint-Priest,  in- 
tendant  of  Languedoc,  for  having  attended  two  meetings."  * 

"  To  see  what  has  become  of  the  petition  of  Jean  Besson,  of 
Alais,  that  he  may  be  allowed  to  sell  his  house  for  4,500  livres 
to  Mark  Ducros,  of  the  same  place."  f 

"  To  reply  to  the  abbe  Barthelemy  that  I  shall  go  and  see 
him  some  of  these  days ;  that  if  I  can  aid  him  in  decyphering 
the  inscription,  I  shall  do  it  with  pleasure ;  that  the  word  in 
question  is  not  in  the  Polyglott,  etc." 

"  To  write  to  Lausanne  that  pastor  Campredon  cannot  re- 
main alone  in  Normandy ;  that  one  or  two  colleagues  must 
absolutely  be  found  for  him."  J 

*  Chaumont,  for  whom  Voltaire  wrote  to  the  duke  de  Choiseul,  waa 
only  liberated  in  1764. 

f  Protestants  were  not  allowed  to  sell  houses  and  lands  of  more  than 
three  thousand  francs  value.  Emigration  was  thus  impossible  fcr  land- 
holders, unless  they  abandoned  everything. 

\  The  churches  in  Normandy  had  only  been  reorganized  toward* 
17-14,  by  the  pastor  Viala. 


120  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  To  send  to  Monsieur  Quesnay,*  the  commencement  of  my 
calculations  in  regard  to  the  price  of  grain  at  Rome,  at  the  end 
of  the  reign  of  Augustus." 

"  Ah  ha !"  he  murmured,  opening  the  last  letter,  "  here  is 
the  abbe  de  Caveirac,  \vho  is  going  to  return  to  the  charge !  f 
He  repents  of  having  been  too  kind." 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  he  continued,  addressing  himself  to 
Rabaut,  whose  step  he  heard  in  an  adjoining  apartment, — 
"come  and  see  how  far  the  fides  romana  can  carry  a  man." 

Rabaut  entered.     "  What  is  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  informed  that  there  is  a  publication  of  the  abbe  de 
Caveirac,  in  which  he  pretends  to  prove  that  there  were  scarcely 
a  thousand  persons  killed  in  Paris  on  Saint  Bartholomew's 
day." 

"A  thousand?  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  that  is  still  quite 
reasonable.  People  have  asserted  to  me  that  there  were  not 
five  hundred  killed,  and  two  or  three  thousand,  at  the  furthest, 
in  the  whole  kingdom." 

"  Why,  they  are  crazy,  these  people !  Who  do  they  think 
will  believe  them  ?" 

"  Who  1  Ah,  my  poor  friend,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  you  only 
live  among  the  savants !  They  will  be  believed — by  all 
whose  interest  it  is  to  believe  them  ;  and  the  savants  will  at 
length  believe  it  also.  Has  it  not  already  been  attempted  to 
prove,  in  some  histories,  that  the  massacre  of  Saint  Bartholo- 
mew was  a  purely  political  affair,  merely  a  game,  in  which  the 
Protestants  had  the  ill  luck  to  be  neither  the  slyest  nor  tho 
strongest  ?  This  excuse  comes  rather  late.  It  would  be  curi  • 

*  The  economist. 

f  He  had  published,  in  1755,  in  answer  to  the  memorial  of  Ripper fc 
de  Mouclar,  a  Dissertation  upon  the  Toleration  of  Protestants  -n  France. 
Two  years  afterwards,  he  had  added  to  it  a  Defence  of  Louis  XIV.  aud 
hia  council 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  121 

ous  enough  for  the  Roman  Church  to  have  bowed  its  head  for 
nearly  two  hundred  years  beneath  the  infamy  of  such  a  reeol 
lection,  if  it  had  had  any  means  of  throwing  it  off.  But  now 
the  career  is  open.  The  Saint  Bartholomew  massacre  will,  in 
fifty  years,  be  nothing  more  than  a  mere  riot,  maliciously 
exaggerated  by  us;  in  an  hundred  years,  it  will  be  pure 
calumny  against  the  good  mother  church."* 

"  Probably ;  and  doubtless  calumny  also,  all  that  oui  de- 
scendants may  say  of  our  sufferings  at  the  present  day." 

"Yes,"  resumed  Rabaut;  "if  I  had  not  a  thousand  other 
reasons  for  being  persuaded  that  the  Roman  Church  teaches 
error,  its  condemnation  might  be  taken,  in  ray  opinion,  from 
this  frightful  facility  in  lying.  Not  a  month  passes,  not  a 
week,  that  I  am  not  obliged  to  take  up  my  pen  to  combat  the 
most  absurd  falsities.  And  it  is  not  by  the  cures  and  monks 
only  that  these  are  circulated.  The  bishops,  whom  their 
position  itself,  in  default  of  conscience,  ought  to  render  more 
careful,  are  only  the  bolder,  as  if  they  felt  themselves  placed 
too  high  for  our  denials  ever  to  reach  them.  After  your  father 
had  replied  so  well,  in  '52,  to  that  famous  letter  f  in  which  the 

*  Bossuet  has  computed  at  six  thousind,  (of  which  at  least  five  hun- 
dred were  noblemen,)  the  number  of  deaths  in  Paris;  and  at  twenty-five 
or  thirty  thousand  those  in  the  provinces.  "  The  news  of  the  massacre 
spread  horror  everywhere,"  he  adds.  "  The  hatred  of  heresy  made  them 
receive  it  with  pleasure  at  Rome."  He  denied  that  there  was  any  plot 
whatever  on  the  pail  of  the  Protestants.  "  In  order  to  impress  the  idea 
of  a  plot  on  all  minds,"  he  says,  "public  thanks  were  given  to  God,  upon 
the  pretended  discovery.  These  shams  imposed  upon  no  one,  and  the 
action  ju~t  committed  was  considered  so  much  the  more  detestable  by 
good  people,  because  there  had  been  no  pretext  found  which  had  the 
lea<4  plaiisibili'v." 

Bossuet,  it  may  be  seen,  is  much  less  anti-Protestant  than  certain 
writers  and  preachers  of  the  present  day. 

•f  Letter  to  the  comptroller-general,  Monsieur  de  Machault,  "  Against 


122  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

bishop  of  Agcn,  Monsieur  de  Chabannes,  accuses  us  of  rejoicing 
at  the  misfortunes  of  France,  it  seemed  as  if  this  accusation 
could  never  again  be  renewed.  Well,  in  our  provinces  there 
is  never  a  single  mandate  published  against  us  in  which  it  is 
not  re-produced  or  insinuated.  And  this  assertion,  though  it 
be  false,  does  not  rest,  after  all,  on  an  absurd  foundation  ;  for 
it  would  not  be  strange  if  we  had  but  little  love  for  a  country 
where  we  have  suffered  so  much.  But  how  many  other  accusa- 
tions are  there,  entirely,  impudently  false,  and  invariably 
repeated  in  all  the  writings  of  these  gentlemen !  One  only, 
the  bishop  of  Nimes,*  is  an  exception ;  and  even  he  signalized 
himself  sadly,  at  the  time  of  the  numerous  re-baptizals  in  '52. 
As  for  the  others,  they  put  no  restraint  upon  themselves ; 
everything  appears  allowable.  There  is  Monsieur  de  Mont- 
clus,  bishop  of  Alais,  who  collects  all  that  is  related  most  dis- 
graceful of  Luther,  Calvin,  and  all  our  reformers ;  or  Monsieur 
de  Saint-Jal,  bishop  of  Castres,  who  accuses  us  of  undermining 
the  principles  of  morality,  and  authorizing  debauchery  and 
adultery ;  or  Monsieur  de  Fontanges,  bishop  of  Lavaur,  who 
represents  us  as  extending  our  hand  to  the  infidels  and  the 
sacrilegious ;  or  Monsieur  de  Crussol  d'Uzes,  bishop  of  La 
Rochelle,  who  thinks  himself  a  great  theologian,  and  who  can 
not  write  a  sentence  against  our  doctrines  without  seasoning  i< 
with  a  falsehood  against  ourselves.  So  much  for  written  lies 
Elsewhere  it  is  still  worse.  In  the  pulpit,  in  the  schools,  ir. 
families,  in  the  confessional,  everywhere  that  we  cannot  follow 
our  enemies  step  by  step,  they  scatter  and  perpetuate  the  most 
absurd  prejudices.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  priests,  if  the 
people  among  whom  we  live — who  can  see  and  speak  with  us 

.He   toleration  of  the  Huguenots   in    the    kingdom"     It  was   upon   thii 
occasion  that  Autoine  Court  published  his  "  Impartial  French  Patriot." 
*  Monsieur  de  Becdelievre. 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  123 

every  day — who  have  but  to  keep  their  eyes  open,  in  short,  to 
see  what  we  are — do  not  look  upon  us  as  a  kind  of  monster, 
scarcely  belonging  to  the  human  race !" 

XXVIII. 

18     SHE     ALTERED     ITU     THIS     RESPECT? 

Did  he  exaggerate  ?  Or  was  the  picture  correct  in  1760, 
and  would  it  be  false  at  the  present  day  1 

It  would  be  so  undoubtedly  in  some  points,  in  one  es- 
pecially. 

If  the  Church  were  to  be  believed,  it  was  for  the  interests  of 
the  throne  that  she  exacted  the  destruction  of  the  Protestants. 
There  was  not  a  mandate,  not  a  memorial,  in  which  their 
liberal  ideas  were  not  represented  as  deserving  more  than  all 
else,  to  draw  upon  them  the  severities  of  royalty. 

This  is  a  source  which  is  no  longer  at  the  present  day  open 
to  their  accusers.  It  would  be  re-opened  without  doubt,  the 
day  when  we  should  again  behold  a  Louis  XIV.  or  a  Louis 
XV.  upon  the  throne ;  in  the  meantime,  they  profess  demo- 
cracy as  loudly  as  possible.  Protestants,  accordingly,  receive 
from  their  former  oppressors,  the  permission  to  love  liberty. 

With  this  exception  the  old  accusations  go  on  their  way ; 
some  just  as  they  were  formerly,  others  a  little  rejuvenated 
but  all,  or  almost  all,  more  audacious  than  ever. 

3» 


124  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,    OR 


XXIX. 

OEBELIN'S  GIGANTIC  PLANS  OF  LITERARY  LABOR. — THE  PRISON- 
ERS  OF   AIGUES-MORTES. 

"But  enough  of  this,"  resumed  the  minister.  "I  have  just 
come  from  the  Palace  of  Justice.  I  saw  burned — you  know 
what.  I  feel  a  longing  to  be  with  some  one  who  can  under- 
stand what  I  felt  at  such  a  sight." 

"  Stay,"  said  Court,  "  while  the  fire  was  burning,  I  received 
another  book  which  will  perhaps  also  be  burned  by  them,  but 
which  will  be  nevertheless  an  eternal  witness  against  their 
Church  and  themselves.  This  is  the  first  copy  of  the  history 
so  long  promised  us  by  my  father,*  and  the  last  pages  of  which 
he  wrote  only  a  few  days  before  his  death.  I  have  still  a 
precious  manuscript,  that  of  the  General  History  of  the  Pro- 
testants of  France  in  their  different  places  of  refuge,  since  the 
Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  It  contains  a  vast  number 
of  details  which  he  alone  could  know,  and  which  would  be  of 
the  deepest  interest  to  those  families  who  have  been  broken  up 
and  scattered  into  exile.  Unhappily  these  are  merely  notes, 
and  they  are  still  far  from  forming  a  book.  I  will  finish  it,  if 
God  spares  my  life.f  It  shall  be  the  work  of  my  old  age." 

"Another! — You  frighten  me,  Gebelin,  with  your  plans. 
Man  proposes — " 

"  And  God  disposes,  I  know.  But  God  does  not  forbid  us 
to  propose,  particularly  when  it  is  for  his  glory." 

"  And  who  can  tell  us  when  it  is  really  for  his  glory  1     Can 

*  History  of  the  Disturbances  in  the  Cevennes,  by  Antoine  Court. 
f  The  work  waa  never  carried  out.  aud  the  uiauuscript  was  lost  at  the 
death  of  Court. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  125 

we  ever  know  -whether  we  actually  think  of  him  at  such  times? 
I  have  trembled  for  you,  I  confess,  when  I  saw  you  in  such  a 
whirl.  Reputation  and  fortune  are  there  at  your  door." 

"  Let  them  enter,  Rabaut,  and  we  shall  see.  I  too,  some- 
times tremble.  I  also  fear  that  I  may  forget  God  for  my- 
self." 

"  Courage,  then  !     It  is  a  proof  that  you  do  not  forget  him." 

"  God  grant  it !  But  before  trembling  for  the  consequences, 
I  must  tremble  at  the  work  itself.  I  have  at  length  sketched 
the  plan  of  the  enormous  work,  about  which  I  have  sometimes 
spoken  to  you  in  my  letters.  There  will  be  twenty  volumes, — 
thirty,  perhaps — " 

"And  you  will  call  it?—" 

"  The  Primitive  World  analyzed  and  compared  with  the 
Modern" 

"  Let  us  hear  the  plan." 

"In  the  first  volume,  I  follow  throughout  the  Greek  and 
Eastern  allegories,  the  generating  principles  of  the  ancient  re- 
ligions. 

"  The  second  is  an  Universal  Grammar,  followed  by  a  theo- 
retical explanation  of  the  process  which  'has  aided  me  in  the 
study  of  languages. 

"  In  the  third,  which  I  think  I  shall  call  the  Natural  History 
of  Speech,  I  treat  the  great  subject  of  the  origin  of  language. 

"  The  fourth,  the  History  of  the  Calendar,  will  comprehend 
everything  connected  with  the  division  of  time,  with  astronom- 
ical observations,  with  chronology,  etc. 

"  The  fifth,  is  an  Etymological  Dictionary  of  our  language. 

"  Thf  sixth  and  seventh,  an  Etymological  Dictionary  of  the 
Latin  language. 

"  The  eighth,  a  collection  of  general  observations  upon  those 
which  have  preceded  it. 


126  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  The  ninth,  an  Etymological  Dictionary  of  the  Greek  lan- 
guage. 

"  The  tenth—" 

"  Enough  !  enough !"  interrupted  Rabaut.  "  You  no  longer 
frighten,  but  you  overwhelm  me.  Why  it  would  take  twenty 
men  to  do  all  that !" 

Gebelin  laughed.  "  Twenty  men,  you  say  ?  I  begin  to  be 
re-assured.  Monsieur  d'Alembert  asserted  that  it  would  re- 
quire forty.*  Let  us  go  on,  and  we  shall  see  that  one  will  do 
enough.  You  see  this  schedule  ?  It  is  a  dissertation  in  which 
I  demonstrate  that  the  language  of  Langucdoc  is  anterior  to  the 
invasion  of  the  Visigoths.  I  give  the  etymology  of  more  than 
twelve  hundred  words  of  the  language,  of  which  about  two 
hundred  are  Greek,  six  hundred  Celtic,  and  the  remainder  Latin 
or  Oriental.  There  are  nearly  an  hundred  pages,  large  ones  as 
you  see.  Now,  how  long  do  you  think  I  was  at  this  ?" 

"  A  month  ]" 

"  Six  days — and  I  was  very  far  from  having  nothing  else  to 
do." 

"  Your  materials  were  ready.  You  had  only  to  arrange  and 
write  down — " 

"  Not  at  all.  When  I  began,  I  did  not  know  the  tenth  part 
of  what  I  discovered  or  guessed  as  I  went  on.  Lately,  at  the 
house  of  the  marquis  d'Aubais,  they  brought  me  an  old  Bible 
in  the  Grison  language,  which  I  had  never  studied  in  my  life. 
Whereupon,  I  began  on  the  spot  to  arrange  I  do  not  know  how 
many  observations  on  this  idiom,  its  origin,  its  history,  etc. 
When  I  took  up  the  Anglo-Saxon  books  of  the  venerable  Bede, 
I  only  had  to  apply  my  key,  in  order  to  understand  them,  and 
I  could  read  them  as  easily  as  French." 

"  I  know, — you  do  not  study, — you  devour.     But — " 
*  Historical 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  127 

"  But  there  is  a  great  deal  of  pride  in  it,  you  were  going  to  say. 
There  is  some  pride.  Yes — I  feel  it.  But  less  than  you  ap- 
pear to  apprehend.  Would  I  dream  of  giving  all  these  details 
to  another  ?  I  have  talked  to  you,  as  to  a  second  self.  If  I 
reach  the  end  I  propose,  to  God,  to  God  alone  the  glory  !  But 
I  shall  die  on  the  road — or  else  I  will  reach  this  end."* 

"Gebelin,  you  argue  in  vain.  I  do  not  like  these  gigantic 
plans ;  I  cannot  help  looking  upon  them  as  a  sort  of  defiance 
of  Providence.  Take  care.  God  forbids  avarice, — and  science 
is  wealth !  All  that  weighs  down  the  miser  who  amasses 
gold, — avidity,  pride,  attachment  to  the  things  of  this  world, — 
are  you  not  sensible  that  these  may  be  felt  in  amassing  knowl- 
edge 1  But  pardon,  dear  brother,  pardon !  you  have  no  need 
of  my  counsels." 

"  No  need  !  Ah  why  are  you  not  always  at  my  side  !  You 
would  force  me  to  be  wiser ;  and  besides,  you  would  give  a  more 
practical  direction  to  my  labors.  You  would  teach  me  to  do 
a  little  less  for  the  learned,  and  much  more  for  the  world  in 
general.  We  would  take  up  our  plan  of  translating  the 
Bible." 

"  Have  you  altogether  abandoned  it  ?" 

"  I  translated  several  psalms  quite  recently." 

"  God  be  praised  !     But  shall  you  go  on  1" 

"  I  am  alarmed,  I  who  am  not  often  alarmed, — not  at  the  la 
bor,  but  at  the  responsibility.  I  have  done  enough,  however 
to  be  convinced  how  very  far  we  still  are  from  being  able  to 
say  that  the  Old  Testament  has  been  translated.  But  of  all 
the  versions  which  have  ever  been  brought  to  my  notice,  the 

*  Only  the  first  nine  volume  appeared  ;  but  at  the  death  of  the  author, 
(1784.)  his  manuscripts  filled  upwards  of  fifty  large  portfolios.  The 
letters  and  papers -relative  to  the  affairs  of  the  Protestants,  according  to 
Rabaut,  formed  a  still  larger  mass.  All  were  lost. 


128  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

Vulgate  is  certainly  the  worst.  And  to  think  that  in  their 
council  of  Trent,  they  dared  to  declare  it  authentic  and  inex- 
pugnable !  I  have  made  the  brave  abbe  Arnaud  pass  many  a 
wretched  hour  on  account  of  this  unlucky  decree.  I  showed 
him  in  the  22d  Psalm  alone,  just  as  it  is  chanted  by  his 
Church,  two  or  three  contradictions  which  he  was  forced  to  ad- 
mit. He  asked  me,  if  our  translators  had  made  none.  I  re- 
plied that  our  translators  were  only  men,  and  that  we  had 
never  declared  them  infallible.  You  should  have  seen  him 
then, — struggling  to  prove  that  in  declaring  the  Vulgate  to  be 
authentic,  and  in  forbidding  its  alteration,  the  Church  had  not 
intended  to  proclaim  its  infallibility.  '  But,'  I  said,  '  suppose 
that  this  is  the  case,  the  decree  of  the  council  would  only  be  the 
stranger.  What !  be  aware  that  the  Vulgate  has  faults,  and 
yet  declare  that  it  must  be  used  as  it  is,  forever,  just  as  if  it  had 
none !  He  was  in  agonies.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  laugh. 
'  Confess,'  I  said,  '  that  it  is  a  hard  task  to  be  at  the  same  time 
a  Catholic  and  a  savant!'  Another  subject  in  regard  to 
which  I  almost  brought  him  to  confess  himself  in  rebellion 
against  the  council  of  Trent,  was  that  of  the  apocryphal  books. 
He  confessed, — and  how  could  he  deny  it  ? — that  neither  the 
Jews,  nor  the  early  Christians,  nor  the  Fathers,  nor  the  doctors, 
nor  the  Church  herself,  before  this  council,  ever  placed  these 
books  in  the  same  rank  with  the  others.  The  whole  question, 
accordingly,  is,  whether  the  Church,  with  such  precedents,  had 
a  right  to  place  them  there  1  He  endeavored  to  prove  it.  I 
then  asked  him  if  in  his  heart  and  conscience  he  believed  the 
decree  exact  and  good ;  and  as  he  dared  not  assert  this,  after 
what  he  had  confessed,  I  said  '  you  see  to  what  you  are  re- 
duced !  This  decree,  in  which  the  Church  gives  you  as  authen- 
tic and  sacred,  writings  formerly  looked  upon  as  not  authentic, 
you  do  not  believe  any  more  than  I  do ;  you  limit  yourself  to 


THE     COURT     OF     I.OUIS     XV.  Izy 

maintaining  that  the  Church  had  the  right  to  make  it,  the  right, 
in  other  words,  to  decree  error.  Is  that  being  submissive  1 
Is  that  being  a  Catholic  V  " 

"I  have  not  met  many  persons,"  said  Rabaut,  -'who  were 
Catholics  in  any  other  way.  As  many  rights  as  she  may 
claim,  are  granted  the  Church  in  theory  ;  but  it  is  another 
thing  to  believe  all  she  teaches.  I  also  have  often  amused 
myself  by  condemning  in  the  name  of  the  council  of  Trent, 
many  persons  who  called  and  believed  themselves  Catholics, 
thanks  to  the  care  which  has  been  taken  to  conceal  from  them 
many  an  article  which  would  have  made  them  reject  all  the 
rest.  This  would  all  be  diverting  enough  if  the  champions  of 
the  Roman  Church  were  reduced  to  take  to  their  petty  loop- 
holes as  their  only  defence,  but  the  nearer  you  have  been  to 
proving  to  them  that  they  are  not  Catholics,  the  more  they  will 
show  }~ou  by  their  hatred  and  violence,  that  they  are  still  too 
much  so.  They  persecute  us,  in  fact,  far  less  because  they  are 
Catholics,  than  because  they  fear  to  be  thought  not  so ;  we  have 
no  greater  enemies  than  those  who  are  obliged  to  stiffen  them 
selves  the  most,  in  order  not  to  surrender  before  our  reason- 
ings, and  it  seems  as  if  every  one  chooses  to  impute  to  us  as 
crimes,  precisely  those  points  upon  which  we  embarrass  them 
the  most.  The  priests,  for  example,  without  equalling  Ar- 
naud  by  a  great  deal,  still  doubtless  know  more  or  less  what 
you  were  remarking  just  now,  on  the  subject  of  the  apocryphal 
books.  Well,  to  hear  them  talk,  one  of  their  chief  complaints 
against  us,  one  of  the  principal  sources  of  their  indignation,  is 
that  we, — they  say — mutilate  the  Bible  by  rejecting  these 
books." 

"  It  is  an  indulgence,  moreover,"  added  Gebelin,  "  if  they  do 
not  set  to  work  and  jest  on  the  somewhat  ancient  language  of 
our  old  versions  and  our  psalms,  as  if  we  were  further  from 


130  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

the  French  of  Pascal  and  Racine,  than  they  from  the  Latin  of 
Virgil  and  Cicero  !  Moreover,  we  preceded  these  great  models , 
while  they  wrote  their  abominable  Latin  after  Virgil  and  Cicero. 
It  would  appear  that  the  abbe  de  Caveirac,  in  the  midst  of  his 
atrocious  calculations  in  regard  to  the  Saint-Bartholomew  mas- 
sacre, still  finds  time  to  let  fly  a  few  bolts  at  us,  upon  this  sub- 
ject. I  am  going  to  send  this  letter  to  Delabroue.  He  will 
procure  the  work,  and  as  he  has  already  broken  more  than  one 
lance  with  the  author —  But  I  had  forgotten.  There  are  two 
letters  for  you  also.  Here  they  are." 

"  This  one — what  a  seal !' 

"  Let  me  see.     The  arms  of  Richelieu  !" 

Rabaut  opened  it,  not  without  a  certain  emotion. 

He  was  requested  to  make  his  appearance,  on  the  next  day 
but  one,  at  Versailles.  The  letter  was  signed  by  one  of  the 
secretaries  of  the  marshal. 

"  God  be  praised !"  he  said.     "  The  petition  has  been  read." 

"By  the  king?" 

"  The  letter  does  not  say ;  but — " 

"  If  it  does  not  say  so,  do  not  count  upon  it." 

"  If  I  can  see  the  duke,  it  is  something." 

"  It  may  be  much, — and  it  may  be  nothing.  It  is  enough  to 
make  one  shudder,  my  poor  friend,  to  reflect  upon  what  the 
fate  of  a  thousand,  of  a  million  of  human  beings  may  depend , 
for  it  is  all  the  same,  frequently,  to  those  who  have  to  rule 
them.  A  moment  of  good  or  ill  humor,  an  accident,  a  nothing, 
a  word  which  may  please  or  displease  in  a  petition  of  twenty 
pages — and  behold  some  evil  ceases, — or  else  continues  for 
another  century !" 

"  Here  is  something  which  I  fear  comes  but  in  season  to 
confirm  what  you  say,"  said  Rabaut,  breaking  the  seal  of  the 
other  letter.  "Precisely.  I  recognized  the  hand.  See — 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  131 

Marie  Durand,  prisoner  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ,  at  the 
tower  of  Constancy.""* 

"  She  knew  that  you  were  at  Paris  T' 

"  No ;  she  writes  to  Nimes.  The  letter  was  sent  me  from 
there." 

"  She  is  the  oldest,  is  she  not,  of  our  poor  sisters  at  Aigues- 
Mortes  ?" 

"  Anne  Gaussaint,  of  Sommieres,  has  been  there  for  thirty- 
seven  years ;  five  others  have  been  there  more  than  thirty. 
Marie  Durand  only  went  there  in  1732,  the  year  in  which  her 
brother,  the  minister,  was  executed  at  Montpellier." 

"  Twenty-eight,  thirty,  thirty-seven  years  of  prison  for  poor 
women,  because  they  were  convicted  of  praying  to  God  other- 
wise than  as  the  king,  or  the  king's* confessor,  dictated!  The 
pagans  were  far  less  cruel.  They  adjudged  death  without 
delay." 

"  More  humane,  indeed, — and,  above  all,  more  excusable, 
since  there  was  war  to  the  death  between  their  deities  and  the 
God  of  the  Christians." 

"  Is  it  possible  to  know  pretty  accurately  the  number  of  our 
female  prisoners  ?" 

"  At  Aigues-Mortes,  nineteen." 

"  I  know  it ;  but  elsewhere  ?" 

"  Elsewhere,  it  is  impossible  to  fix  any  number.  All  the 
convents  in  the  South  contain  some.  Many  may  have  died, 
without  our  knowing  anything  of  it ;  many,  of  whom  we  can- 
not hear  anything  more,  are  undoubtedly  still  living.  It  is  a 
terrible  thing,  Gebelin,  even  to  pass  by  these  dark  buildings, 
silent  as  the  grave,  in  which  slowly  linger  on  these  women, 
torn  from  their  husbands,  their  fathers,  their  children,  f  They 

*  At  Aigues-Mortes. 

f  "  It  is  just,  Monsieur,  that  the  patrol  should  be  paid  for  the  journeys 


132  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

are  not  quite  so  frequently  carried  off  now  as  formerly ;  but 
the  edicts  still  exist,  the  threats  continue,  and  the  sword  is  none 
the  less  hanging  over  their  heads.  When  a  family  is  assembled 
together,  it  can  never  know  whether  it  is  not  for  the  last  time. 
Quite  recently,  after  a  truce,  which  it  had  been  at  last  hoped 
might  continue  a  long  time,  the  tower  of  Constancy  has  re- 
ceived two  new  captives.  One  was  the  mother  of  Bruyn.  She 
had  been  captured  when  returning  from  a  meeting :  her  hus- 
band was  sent  to  Toulon,  she  to  Aigues-Mortes.  The  other 
was  quite  a  young  woman,  Marguerite  Robert,  arrested  by  an 
order  of  Marshal  de  Thomond,  governor  of  Guyenne.  What 
had  she  done  ?  Nothing  more  than  thousands  of  others ;  she 
had  refused  to  be  married  before  a  cure,  and  I  had  blessed  her 
union.  They  wished  to  make  an  example  for  the  others :  they 
took  the  first  comer,  or  rather  they  selected  her,  beautiful, 
young,  interesting,  in  order  that  her  misfortune  should  produce 
a  more  painful  sensation.  Her  husband,  Vincent,  of  Uzes,  who 
has  been  left  at  liberty,  is  almost  mad  with  grief." 

"  He  wrote  to  me,"  said  Gebelin,  "  to  implore  me  to  interest 
myself  for  her.  I  have  moved  heaven  and  earth,  but  in  vain. 
It  is  easier  here  to  obtain  the  pardon  of  a  criminal  condemned 
by  justice,  than  that  of  a  Protestant  arraigned  by  one  of  those 
condemnations  which  fall  upon  us  by  accident,  and  without 
form  of  trial.  Our  tyrants  fear,  and  not  without  reason,  lest, 
by  mitigating  the  sentence,  they  might  seem  to  confess  its  in- 
justice. They  prefer  to  forget  a  man  in  the  galleys,  or  a 

they  make  in  arresting  and  conducting  the  daughters  of  Protestants  to 
the  houses  destined  for  their  education.  When  the  parents  are  really  not 
able  to  pay  these  expenses,  I  shall  take  the  necessary  measures  for  de- 
fraying them." 

Despatch  of  Monsieur  de  Saint-Florentin  to  the  intendant  at  Rouen, 
July  18,  1751. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  133 

woman  shut  up  in  a  tower,  to  confessing  publicly  why  they 
have  been  sent,  why  they  have  been  left  there."  * 

"  We  had  a  sad  proof  of  that,"  added  Rabaut,  "  in  regard  to 
one  of  these  poor  women,  Jeanne  Guingues.  She  had  a  son  in 
the  army.  This  son  was  killed  at  Fontenoy  in  '45.  In  the 
midst  of  the  transports  of  joy  which  the  victory  caused  through- 
out the  kingdom,  we  believed  that  the  time  was  a  favorable 
one  to  request  the  freedom  of  his  mother.  It  was  refused. 
Eight  or  ten  years  afterwards,  the  eldest  of  her  grandsons  was 
killed  while  fighting  beneath  the  same  banner.  Another 
solicitation,  another  refusal.  And  she  is  still  at  Aigues-Mortes ! 
Marie  Durand,  like  the  greater  number  of  her  companions,  at 
last  ceased  to  think  of  liberty.  Her  letters  for  a  long  time 
expressed  unbounded  resignation.  Some  friends,  it  appears, 
gave  her  hopes,  and  she  became  very  unhappy.  She  wrote 
me  constantly  to  implore  me  to  act  in  her  favor.  In  this  letter 
again,  see :  '  For  the  sake  of  the  bowels  of  Divine  mercy,  do 
everything  you  can  to  snatch  us  from  this  frightful  sepulchre !' 
Poor  women !  What  can  I  do  1  What  can  we  do  ?" 

"  What  indeed,  when  those  even  to  whom  we  must  send  our 
petitions  are  not  free  to  yield  to  our  solicitations  1  During  all 

*  "  A  long  time  since,  Monsieur,  you  seat  me  a  favorable  notice  of  the 
Sieur  Serres,  imprisoned  at  the  fort  of  Brescou  for  about  twenty  years, 
for  bavins  married  the  sister  of  a  preacher.  The  king  consents  that  he 
shall  be  liberated." 

Despatch  <>f  Monsieur  de  Saint-Florentin  to  the  intendant  of  Languedoc, 
(Lenain  d'Asfold.) 

It  is  comprehensible  that  the  government  did  not  like  to  grant  pardons 
•which  reminded  them  of  such  condemnations;  accordingly,  the  decree  of 
liberation  always  stated  that  the  condemned  had  testified  a  sincere  regret 
for  his  crime.  Often,  likewise,  for  fear  that  the  pardon  might  seem  to 
recognize  his  innocence,  certain  restrictions  accompanied  it  Thus  this 
same  Serres,  upon  his  liberation  from  the  fort  of  Brescou,  was  banished 
from  Languedoc. 


134  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

my  efforts  for  our  galley  slaves,  for  our  prisoners,  I  have  not 
yet  met  any  one,  from  the  duke  de  Choiseul  to  the  lowest 
clerk,  who  did  not  receive  me  kindly,  and  appear  to  be  inter 
ested  in  their  fate.  At  first  I  always  went  away  full  of  hope ; 
after  each  visit  I  was  astonished  to  have  succeeded  so  well,  and 
so  quickly.  But  days,  months  went  by,  and  the  pardon  never 
came.  The  governor  himself,  the  duke  de'Fitz-James,  solicited 
the  liberty  of  the  prisoners  at  Aigues-Mortes,  two  years  ago, 
but  in  vain.  It  is  because  each  one,  in  these  affairs,  each 
intendant,  governor,  and  minister, — even  the  king  himself, — is 
only  the  jailor  of  the  Church,  and  the  Church  is  inexorable. 
The  man  who  has  been  for  forty  years  the  instrument  of  all 
our  sufferings,  the  count  de  Saint-Florentin,  is,  I  am  convinced, 
constantly  at  war  with  the  bishops.  It  has  been  asserted  to 
me,  proofs  in  hand.  There  is  no  severity  which  the  bishops 
have  not  requested  to  be  increased,  and  made  more  complete ; 
there  is  no  relaxation  in  regard  to  which  they  do  not  show 
themselves  irritated,  as  if  it  were  a  treason  against  their  Church 
or  against  them.  Monsieur  de  Saint-Florentin  says  to  any 
who  wish  to  know,  that  his  archives  would  furnish  a  singular 
insight  into  this  subject.  Let  these  melancholy  records  be 
care-fully  preserved,  for  some  day,  when  persecution  has  gone 
out  of  fashion,  the  French  clergy  will  not  fail  to  cast  all  the 
odium  of  it  upon  the  government.  Have  not  certain  historians 
already  begun  to  make  of  the  Inquisition  a  purely  secular 
tribunal,  an  entirely  political  institution,  for  whose  enormities, 
consequently,  the  Church  is  not  to  be  reproached  ? 


THK     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  135 


XXX. 

THE    PRIEST    AND    THE   HUGUENOT. DISCUSSION    ON   THE     UTILITY 

OF    MONASTERIES    IN    A    LITERARY    POINT    OF    VIEW. 

AUTHORITY  OF  THE   BIBLE  AND    OF  THE    CHURCH. 

At  this  point  of  their  conversation,  Father  Bridaine  was  an- 
nounced. They  looked  at  one  another,  amazed.  Court  could 
not  understand  so  unexpected  a  visit  from  a  man  whom  he 
only  knew  by  reputation.  Rabaut  wished  to  retire,  with  the 
intention  of  making  his  appearance  afterwards.  On  second 
thoughts  he  remained. 

"  I  was  not  wrong,  then,"  said  the  missionary,  upon  perceiv- 
ing him.  "  It  is  you  whom  I  sought,  Monsieur  ;  I  only  came 
to  your  friend  in  order  to  inquire  your  address.  But  you 
were  talking,  gentlemen, — I  interrupt  you — " 

"  A  fortunate  interruption,"  said  Gebelin,  "  since  it  procures 
me  the  honor — " 

Bridaine  bowed.  "  We  have  not  seen  each  other,"  he  re- 
sumed, addressing  himself  to  Rabaut,  "  since  the  day  at  Ver- 
sailles." 

"  You  think  so  ?"  said  Rabaut.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  where  you 
were  an  hour  ago  ?" 

"  You  have  seen  Bruyn  ?" 

"  Bruyn  ? — I  do  not  know  where  he  is.  But  I  saw  you, 
yourself,  in  the  court  of  the  Palace  of  Justice.  You  were 
present  at  what  took  place  there.  You  picked  up  two  half- 
burned  leaves  ;  you  looked  at  them — in  a  manner — " 

"  Yes — "  said  Bridaine,  with  a  little  embarrassment.  "  But 
how  did  I  happen  to  be  there  ?" 

"  I  saw  you  there.     That  is  all  I  know  about  it." 

"  I  had  just  seen,  in  his  cell,  him  whom  you  saw  in  Meaux, 


136  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

at  the  deo/*  of  the  church.  lie  was  recognized  and  arrested. 
He  may  at  any  time  be  executed.  He  wishes  to  see  you." 

"  I  will  go.     Shall  I  be  able  to  enter  ?" 

"I  will  procure  you  the  necessary  permission." 

Rabaut  believed  the  Cevenol  guilty  of  the  assassination  of 
the  colonel.  Bridaine  did  not  see  fit  to  correct  his  error,  or  to 
speak  to  him  of  the  measures  he  was  going  to  take  to  endeavor 
to  save  Bruyn. 

They  took  their  seats.  Bridaine  would  have  preferred  to  be 
alone  with  Rabaut ;  Rabaut  with  Bridaine.  An  astonishing 
intimacy  had  sprung  up  between  these  two  souls.  They  both 
felt  themselves  lofty  enough  to  clasp  each  other's  hands  above 
the  ramparts  of  the  two  Churches. 

Accordingly,  for  want  of  any  other  subject,  the  conversation 
turned  upon  the  labors  of  Gebelin.  Bridaine  had  often  heard 
them  spoken  of;  Rabaut,  first  as  a  friend,  then  as  a  Protestant, 
was  proud  of  them.  He  did  not  rest  until  the  savant  had  laid 
before  the  missionary,  as  he  had  just  done  before  him,  the  plan 
of  his  gigantic  work.  Bridaine  was  confounded  by  it.  Men 
of  action  are  more  liable  than  any  others,  to  be  alarmed  at 
extensive  cabinet  labors. 

"  Well,"  said  the  minister,  "  all  Benedictines  do  not  wear 
the  habit  of  Saint  Benedict,  do  they  ?" 

"  I  did  not  believe  that  there  existed  in  the  midst  of  the  dis- 
tractions of  the  age,  men  so  worthy  to  wear  it." 

"  The  distractions  of  the  age,"  replied  Rabaut,  "  injure  those 
only  who  are  absorbed  by  them.  For  a  mind  naturally  ac- 
tive and  strong,  they  form  the  materials  of  a  struggle  in  which 
it  can  but  gain  in  force,  activity  and  resources.  For  such  an 
one,  the  thought  of  time  lost  is  but  a  stimulant  to  employ  well 
what  remains.  He  hastens  to  his  labors  as  others  hasten  to 
their  enjoyments.  He  does  in  a  few  hours  more  work,  per- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  137 

haps,  than  a  man  who  likes  to  work,  but  who  has  his  whole 
time, — whom  nothing  hinders,  nothing  excites."  i 

Bridaine  smiled.  "  Is  that  an  observation  aimed  at  the  con- 
vents." 

"  I  did  not  think  of  them,"  replied  the  minister,  "  but  if  I 
had,  would  I  have  been  wrong  ?  Have  we,  without  monas- 
teries, had  fewer  learned  men  than  you  with  them  1  And  even 
without  speaking  of  any  Church  beside  your  own,  have  you 
not  had  enough  learned  men  who  were  not  cloistered  monks  ?" 

"  Monasteries  were  not  instituted  in  order  to  make  learned 
men." 

"True;  science  was  never  less  thought  of  than  in  those  cen- 
turies when  the  greatest  number  were  founded.  But  that  does 
not  prevent  the  service  which  has  been  done  in  this  respect 
from  being  generally  presented  in  our  days  as  a  powerful  ar- 
gument in  their  favor.  My  observation  might  serve  as  a  reply 
to  this  argument." 

"  Were  not  all  the  master-pieces  of  antique  literature  pre- 
served in  the  monasteries  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Gebelin :  "  but  how  ?  I  have  made  a  number 
of  researches  on  this  subject,  by  whose  results  I  have  been 
struck,  so  little  do  they  agree  with  what  I  have  heard  asserted 
by  your  Church.  In  the  first  place,  in  order  that  a  benefit 
may  deserve  gratitude,  it  is  necessary  that  the  benefactor 
should  have  intended  to  do  a  service,  or  at  least  that  he  should 
not  have  rendered  it  without  in  the  least  suspecting  it.  And 
in  this  matter,  did  the  monks  imagine  how  much  future  ages 
were  to  owe  to  them  ?  Can  many  of  them  be  mentioned,  who 
in  preserving  to  us  Virgil,  Cicero,  and  Tacitus,  appear  to  have 
been  acquainted  with  what  they  preserved  ?  The  best  proof 
tnat  they  were  scarcely  aware  of  it,  is  the  state  in  which  they 
have  left  the  manuscripts  to  us ;  and  above  all,  the  immense 


138  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

number  which  they  defaced  or  allowed  to  be  lost.  Those 
which  were  delivered  to  us  at  the  Renaissance,  were  not  the 
thousandth  part  of  the  number  which  they  could  and  ought  to 
have  preserved.  And  how  many  writings  completely  lost ! 
How  many  authors  of  whom  the  names  alone  remain  1  How 
many  works  of  the  highest  order,  of  which  but  three  or  four 
manuscripts  have  been  found  in  all  Europe  ?  sometimes  only 
one,  as  for  instance  the  Phadrus,  among  others,  discovered  at 
Saint-Benedict,  on  the  Loire  ;  it  would  still  lie  buried  there,  for 
an  indefinite  length  of  time,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  pillage 
of  the  abbey  in  1562.  Even  Cicero,  one  of  those  least 
damaged  during  that  thousand  years  of  forgetfulness,  we  have 
not  complete." 

"  I  have  already  made  the  remark,"  said  Bridaine,  "  that  the 
convents  were  not  established  to  serve  as  libraries.  Perhaps, 
as  you  say,  the  argument  to  which  your  observations  are  a  re- 
ply has  been  abused.  Nevertheless,  the  fact  is  there ;  if  the 
convents  had  not  existed,  where  would  you  have  gone  to  look 
for  the  ancients,  you  who  love  them  so  much  ?" 

"  Without  the  convents,  that  is  to  say,  without  the  system. 
of  which  the  convents  were  a  consequence,  I  think  that  we 
should  have  done  very  well  without  people  to  take  care  of  the 
books,  seeing  that  there  would  never  have  been  any  danger  of 
their  being  lost.  The  history  of  the  decline  of  letters  may  be 
divided,  it  seems  to  me,  into  three  periods.  During  the  first, 
the  Church  gradually  seizes  the  monopoly  of  learning.  During 
the  second,  having  from  day  to  day  less  to  do  in  order  to  re- 
main above  the  intellectual  level  of  the  people,  she  allows  her- 
self to  decline  into  ignorance.  In  the  third,  she  ends  by  find- 
ing herself  if  not  below  the  people,  at  least  below  all  those 
who  have  again  begun  to  think  and  labor.  It  is  from  without, 
from  her  enemies,  that  she  must  recover  her  intellectual  and 


THE     COURT    OF     LOUIS     XV.  139 

literary  life.  You  speak  of  the  Benedictines.  They  were  the 
first,  I  know,  to  become  an  exception ;  but  their  finest  works 
are  posterioi  to  the  Reformation,  and  I  could  show  you  in 
every  page  ti  aces  of  this  great  awakening.  And  what  had  the 
Reformation  to  do  in  order  to  give  the  signal  for  so  much 
labor,  to  awaken  in  the  opposite  camp  as  well  as  in  its  own,  all 
existing  intelligence?  Very  little, — scarcely  anything.  An 
old  book  was  taken  up  out  of  the  dust.  This  dust  was  that 
which  your  Church  had  allowed  to  collect  upon  it, — ordering 
finally  that  it  should  eternally  remain  covered  with  it.  Scarcely 
has  it  again  seen  the  light,  before  everything  in  the  world  of 
ideas,  seems  to  exist  for  and  by  it.  Printing  is  proud  to  put 
itself  at  its  service ;  all  the  sciences,  all  the  arts  come  together 
and  converge  in  it.  Doctrines  which  you  may  hold  to  be  false, 
but  of  which  you  cannot  deny  the  immense  renovating  power, 
spring  from  these  pages  so  long  and  so  obstinately  sealed. 
With  this  book  alone  in  their  hands,  a  few  men  find  themselves 
strong  against  all  the  powers  of  Europe,  learned  in  the  presence 
of  all  its  science,  invincible  to  all  the  representatives  of  a  past 
wounded  to  the  death,  from  the  pope  to  the  emperor,  from  the 
magistrate  to  the  hangman." 

"  Might  I  not  retort  all  this  ?"  said  Bridaine.  "  It  is  not  the 
first  time,  I  might  say,  that  God  has  allowed  evil  to  gain  the 
victory.  Is  all  emancipation  a  benefit  1  Doubtless  the  fruit 
also,  which  the  first  man  gathered  in  the  terrestrial  paradise, 
was  savory.  And  yet,  this  fruit  was — the  forbidden  fruit." 

"  Forbidden  of  God,  and  it  is  on  that  account,  and  that  only, 
that  his  action  was  a  crime." 

"  I  understand.  You  would  say  that  the  study  of  the  Bible 
has  not  been  forbidden  by  God,  but  by  the  Church.  But  for 
us,  the  voice  of  the  Church  is  the  voice  of  God." 

"  Even  when  its  commands  are  contrary  to  those  of  God  ?" 


140  KABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  It  must  be  proved,  in  the  first  place,  that  this  contradiction 
exists." 

"  Let  us  stop,  Monsieur.  I  have  not,  in  truth,  the  courage 
to  commence  the  demonstration  -which  you  require.  When  a 
Catholic  sincerely  accepts  the  combat,  on  the  ground  of  the 
Bible,  /  then  feel  tempted  to  refuse ;  my  adversary  appears 
to  me,  from  this  very  fact,  so  little  of  a  Catholic,  that  I  should 
fear,  by  exciting  him,  to  make  him  still  less  so.  I  prefer  sim- 
ply to  send  him  to  the  inspired  book  which  he  consents  to 
adopt  as  an  arbitrator ;  at  furthest,  I  venture  to  point  out  two 
or  three  questions  which  I  should  wish  him  to  address  to  him- 
self ; — but  solemnly,  in  the  presence  of  this  book,  between  his 
conscience  and  God." 

"  And  these  questions  ?" 

"  You  wish  to  hear  them  1  The  first  is  this  :  '  among  the 
teachings  of  the  Church,  are  there  none  of  which  I  never  should 
have  dreamed, — neither  I,  nor  any  other  person,  if  we  had  had 
no  other  guide  but  the  Scriptures  ?  Should  I  have  found,  for 
instance,  the  mass,  confession,  purgatory,  the  worship  of  saints  ? 
Should  I  have  seen  in  the  Bible,  in  particular,  either  an  inter- 
diction to  read  it,  or  anything  whatever,  which  could  make  me 
believe  in  the  future  possibility  of  such  an  interdiction  V  This 
is  the  first  question." 

"  And  now  my  turn,"  said  Bridaine. 

"  Allow  me  to  continue.  My  three  questions  are  so  con- 
nected, that  I  must  beg  you  to  hear  me  to  the  end  before  re- 
plying." 

"  Let  us  hear." 

"  The  second,  then,  is  this  :  '  among  these  things  which  I 
should  not  have  found  in  the  Scriptures,  how  many  are  there 
which  the  Scriptures  really  appear  to  teach  or  authorize,  and 
which  I  find  it  possible  to  prove  from  the  Scriptures  ?'  The 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  141 

third  and  last  is  this ;  '  I  may,  it  is  true,  draw  from  another 
source, — tradition.  But  can  I  seriously  believe  that  doctrines 
so  important  in  theory,  so  universally  applicable  in  practice, 
would  have  been  omitted,  or  so  vaguely  indicated  in  the  Scrip- 
tures? Can  I  believe,  for  example, — that  mass,  confession, 
purgatory, — not  to  take  up  any  other  points, — these  things 
which  occupy  so  prominent  a  place  in  my  life,  in  my  worship, 
in  the  books  which  I  read  or  write,  in  the  sermons  which  I  hear 
or  preach. — can  I  believe,  I  say,  that  if  God  had  wished  to 
teach  them,  there  would  have  been  not  one  formal  mention  of 
them  in  the  whole  of  the  New  Testament  1  The  apostles,  it  is 
true,  spoke  more  than  they  wrote ;  but  can  I  imagine  them 
writing  two  or  three  hundred  pages, — nay, — twenty  pages,  ten 
pages,  without  clearly  mentioning  one  of  those  grave  points, 
which  the  Protestants  deny  1  Is  not  the  very  fact  that  there 
may  be  a  doubt  upon  the  subject,  a  contest,  in  objects  of  such 
importance,  a  powerful  opposing  argument  V  '  This  is  what  I 
would  have  all  the  sincere,  intelligent  and  pious  men  among 
you,  ask  themselves ;  this  is  the  examination  which  I  would 
have  you  one  day  make  yourself." 

"  And  how  do  you  know  that  I  have  not  made  it  ?"  inter- 
rupted the  missionary. 

"  How  ?  Because  you  are  still  a  Catholic,  still  a  priest. 
What !  You  have  weighed,  seriously  weighed  what  Scripture 
says,  or  rather  does  not  say,  upon  the  subject  of  mass,  confess- 
ion, purgatory, — and  yet  have  continued  to  perform  the  mass, 
hear  confession,  and  speak  of  the  souls  in  purgatory !  You 
have  seen  that  the  Virgin  is  scarcely  mentioned  in  the  Gospels, 
totally  forgotten  in  the  Epistles,  and  you  have  persisted  iu 
recommending  her  worship  as  dating  from  the  early  days  of  the 
Church,  as  established  at  the  direction  of  God  and  of  the  apos- 
tles !  You  have  found  hi  the  Bible  scores  of  invitations  to  read 


142  RABAUT    AND     BRIDAINE,    OR 

it,  scores  of  things  which  exclude  the  idea  of  any  restriction 
whatever  in  these  invitations;  you  have  perceived  that  the 
Fathers  advise,  recommend,  prescribe  universally  by  the  read- 
ing of  it, — and  you  interdict  it !" 

"  I  ?— never." 

"  Never  1  Then  I  have  no  more  to  say  upon  that  subject. 
It  is  a  matter  between  you  and  your  Church.  Its  voice,  you 
say,  is  the  voice  of  God.  If  God  commanded  me  to  take  the 
Bible  away  from  my  brethren,  I  should  take  great  care  not  to 
allow  them  to  have  it." 

"  I  also, — if  the  Church  had  absolutely  interdicted  it.  Does 
not  the  council  of  Trent  authorize  us  to  allow  those  to  read  it 
whom  we  judge  to  be  in  a  state  to  profit  by  it  ?" 

"  Let  all  the  people,  let  everybody  read  it  then,  for  if  there 
is  one  thing  which  the  Fathers  appeared  to  lay  down  clearly,  it 
is  precisely  this,  that  the  Scripture  is  written  for  all,  good  for 
all,  necessary  for  all." 

"Other  times,  other  laws." 

"  Undoubtedly ;  but  in  this  case  we  ought  to  be  able  to  for 
get  how  the  law  came  to  be  made.  It  was  an  after-thought ; 
it  was  when  the  resuscitated  Bible  menaced  the  institutions,  the 
doctrines,  the  very  existence  of  your  church,  that  you  concluded 
to  forbid  it.  In  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  when  it 
was  less  read  than  ever,  still  there  was  no  law  yet  made  to 
forbid  the  reading  of  it.  In  the  sixteenth,  when  it  accidentally 
fell  into  the  hands  of  Luther,  Luther  then  broke  no  law  in 
reading  it.  The  council  was  held,  and'  the  prohibition  given  ; 
a  bold  but  dangerous  admission  of  that  which  we  have  repeated 
to  you  for  two  centuries  past,  namely,  that  you  cannot  stand 
before  the  Bible,  and  that  there  will  forever  be  a  mortal  enmity 
between  it  and  you.  You  allow  those  to  read  it,  you  say, 
whom  you  judge  to  be  in  a  state  to  profit  by  it.  But  even  if 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  143 

all  your  colleagues  should  do  the  same, — which  they  do  not, — 
even  if  there  were  not,  on  the  contrary,  a  very  great  number 
of  them  who  do  not  study  it  themselves, — yet,  is  it  enough 
only  to  allow  it  ?  What  should  you  think  of  a  cure  who  allowed 
his  people  to  go  to  mass,  to  confess,  to  commune  ?  What 
would  Augustine,  Jerome,  Chrysostom,  have  thought  of  a  priest 
of  their  day  who  confined  himself  to  allowing  what  they  recom- 
mended with  so  much  earnestness,  to  the  ignorant  as  well  as 
the  learned,  to  the  poor  as  well  as  the  rich  1  '  Other  times 
other  laws,'  you  say.  I  know  that  these  same  Fathers  com- 
plained occasionally  of  the  errors  to  which  this  liberty  was 
liable  ;  but  what  conclusion  did  they  draw  from  it  1  That  the 
faithful  must  be  deprived  of  it  ?  No.  The  only  remedy  which 
occurred  to  them  for  the  mistakes  which  might  occur  in  reading 
the  Bible,  was  a  more  frequent  and  more  attentive  perusal  of 
it.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing  more  embarrass- 
ing for  a  defender  of  your  church  than  the  very  nature  of  the 
differences  of  which  they  complained.  How  comes  it  that 
among  these  heresiarchs,  who  might  be  numbered  by  hundreds, 
and  who  so  profoundly  discussed  all  questions  of  discipline  and 
doctrine,  none  attacked  those  which  were  attacked  by  the  re- 
formers ?  Why  do  we  not  see  those  who  carried  independence 
so  far  as  to  declare  it  unlimited,  and  without  law  of  any  kind, 
attacking  confession  ?  Why  do  not  those  who  wished  to  have 
no  clergy  attack  the  pope  1  Why  do  not  those  who  wish  to 
have  their  worship  without  any  ceremony  whatever  speak  of 
abolishing  the  mass"?  Those  who  declared  Christ  to  be  a 
simple  doctor, — why  do  not  they  make  mention  of  the  refusal 
of  their  homage  to  the  Virgin  ?  Let  this  be  explained,  or  I 
must  be  allowed  to  conclude  that  in  the  early  ages  there  was 
neither  pope,  nor  confession,  nor  mass,  nor  anything  of  the 
kind ; — for  you,  I  imagine,  are  not  one  of  those  who  dare  to 


144  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

assert  that  if  these  things  were  not  attacked,  it  was  because 
they  were  then  universally  admitted,  and  beyond  all  dispute." 

"  We  do  not  deny,"  said  Bridaine,  "  that  certain  doctrines 
and  practices  have,  in  course  of  time,  received  a  wider  develop- 
ment than  at  the  period  of  their  origin.  But  you  forget  that 
on  the  other  hand,  we  contend  for  a  perpetual  intervention  of 
God  in  all  that  is  said  or  done  by  the  church.  These  develop 
ments,  accordingly,  are  as  true,  as  sacred  as  the  foundation. 
Even  if  you  prove  that  we  are  not  exactly  what  we  were 
fifteen  or  sixteen  centuries  ago,  what  will  you  gain  by  if? 
Because  a  man  is  more  developed  at  thirty  than  at  twenty,  will 
you  dispute  his  right  to  present  himself  as  the  same  individual, 
to  bear  the  same  name,  to  inherit  the  same  patrimony  V 

"  No,"  said  Rabaut ;  "  I  will  deny  him  nothing  which  he  has 
indisputably  possessed  from  his  birth,  or  in  virtue  of  his  birth ; 
but  I  must  ask  to  see  his  title  to  anything  additional  which  he 
may  claim.  Where  is  your  title  ?  Can  we  reasonably  permit 
you  to  say,  '  Believe,  for  the  church  is  infallible?'  In  order  to 
believe,  upon  her  own  assertion,  in  her  infallibility,  it  must 
first  be  believed  that  she  is  not  mistaken  in  this  assertion.  If 
I  am  not  persuaded  of  this  beforehand,  what  good  will  her 
assertion  do  me  1  If  you  have  titles,  they  are  not,  they  cannot 
in  fact,  be  anywhere  but  in  the  Bible.  If  all  other  rights  were 
yours,  yoi/  have  at  least  no  right  to  conceal  these  titles  from 
those  who  wish  to  see  them  with  their  own  eyes  before  be- 
lieving in  them." 

"  To  conceal  them,  no ;  but  the  right  to  keep  them  out  of 
the  hands  of  those  who  would  not  be  able  to  read  them  with 
profit,  is  given  us  by  reason  itself.  Do  you  ask  a  father  by 
what  right  he  takes  from  his  children  those  books  which,  in  his 
opinion,  they  cannot  read  with  safety  ?" 

"  You  move  in  a  circle,  and  there  is  no  subject  which  does 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  145 

not  immediately  bring  your  Church,  if  she  be  a  little  pressed, 
back  to  the  same  point.  As  soon  as  you  reason,  you  not  only 
lose  all  your  advantages,  but  you  place  yourselves  necessarily 
outside  of  all  the  rules  of  logic.  A  debate  of  any  kind  whatso- 
ever, supposes  the  possibility  of  a  defeat ;  but  you  are  forced 
to  announce  beforehand  that  you  will  not  yield,  that  you  cannot 
yield.  All  debate  is  thus  on  your  part  an  illusion  ;  the  only 
part  which  you  can  play  in  accordance  with  your  principles,  is 
that  of  ordering,  of  constraining.  Accordingly,  nothing  is 
more  confused,  nothing  more  equivocal,  than  the  regulations 
made  at  Trent  on  the  subject  of  the  reading  and  interpretation 
of  the  sacred  books.  They  dared  not  positively  interdict  it ; 
they  could  not  permit  it.  It  was  necessary  to  give  with  one 
hand,  and  take  back  with  the  other.  Nothing  can  be  more 
curious  than  the  discussions  to  which  the  preparation  of  the 
decree  gave  rise ;  and  the  decree  had  scarcely  appeared,  before 
it  was  pronounced  at  Rome  still  too  liberal.  Three  months 
after  the  close  of  the  council,  Pius  IV.  interpreted  it  as  an 
almost  absolute  prohibition  ;  and  it  is  not  ten  years  since  the 
inquisitor-general  *  dared  to  write,  '  Some  men  have  carried 
their  audacity  to  the  execrable  extremity"1 — of  reading  the  Bible  1 
No, — '  of  asking  permission  to  read  the  Bible  !'  Thus  it  is  in 
Spain,  the  most  Catholic  kingdom.  Is  it  different  elsewhere  ? 
You  cannot  mention  a  country  in  which  your  church  does  not 
employ  against  the  Bible  all  her  available  power  and  influence. 
Where  she  allows  it  to  be  read,  it  is  only  because  she  cannot 
prevent  it.  Where  she  can  still  burn  those  who  read  it,  sho 
does  so.  Where  she  can  only  burn  the  Bible  itself — " 

Bridaine  started.     Rabaut  paused  a  few  seconds. 

"  Conscience  has  spoken,"  he  resumed.  "  I  see  that  I  have 
touched  a  sore  spot  in  your  heart.  Courage,  my  friend !  Take 
*  Perez  del  Pi-ado,  1750. 


146  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

out  those  two  leaves  which  I  saw  you  pick  up  in  the  court  of 
the  palace, — for  I  was  there,  you  know." 

He  took  them  out. 

The  book  which  had  been  torn  and  burnt  by  the  hand  of  the 
hangman,  in  the  year  of  grace  1760,  at  Paris,  in  company  with 
the  Esprit  of  Ilelvctius,  the  Human  Plant  of  Lamettrie,  and 
the  Chinese  Letters  of  d'Argens,  was — the  New  Testament. 


XXXI. 

THE  BOOK  WHICH  WAS    BURNT  IN   THE    COURT    OF    THE    PALACE. 

CHOOSING   A   TEXT. SUPREME   AUTHORITY    OF   THE    CHURCH. 

And  the  three  sat  there  motionless,  contemplating  with 
various  emotions  these  two  leaves,  torn,  blackened,  soiled  with 
mud. 

With  Bridaine  the  emotion  was  one  of  confusion,  of  shame ; 
it  was  the  painful  dejection  of  a  man  condemned  to  submit  to 
an  obligation  against  which  his  heart  revolts.  He  did  not 
acknowledge  himself  conquered,  but  he  had  no  longer  strength, 
nor  courage,  nor  wish  to  combat. 

With  Rabaut  it  was  a  mingling  of  pity  for  his  adversary, 
indignation  against  an  impious  despotism,  and,  above  all,  love 
for  this  sacred  book  so  insultingly  profaned.  He  would  have 
wished  to  kiss  these  pages,  as  the  sacred  remains  of  the  mar- 
tyrs of  old  were  reverently  kissed  among  the  ashes  of  the  stake. 

And  with  his  friend  it  was  indignation  of  a  cooler  sort,  as 
well  as  the  pity  of  a  thoughtful  man  for  those  who  imagined 
that  by  burning  a  little  paper,  they  could  arrest  the  flight  of 
conscience  and  of  thought. 

"  Give  me  these  leaves,"  said  the  minister,  at  length.  "  I 
will  keep  them  as  a  souvenir  of  my  journey  to  Paris." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  147 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  the  priest.  "  But  no ;  not  yet.  I 
wish  to  read  them ;  I  wish  also  that  they  should  serve  me,  as — 
I  am  going  to  preach  in  a  few  days." 

"Well?" 

"  I  will  take  my  text  from  them." 

Bridaine  was  glad  of  this  kind  of  expiation  which  had 
occurred  to  him.  He  joined  thereby,  as  far  as  a  Catholic 
could,  in  the  sorrow  of  having  seen  the  Bible  burned ;  he 
offered  to  God  and  to  the  two  Protestants  a  reparation  for  the 
outrage  upon  the  sacred  book. 

He  even  wished  to  go  farther.  "  Help  me  to  choose  one," 
he  said. 

They  took  one  of  the  two  leaves.  There  was  a  fragment 
from  the  book  of  Acts. 

"  I  will  read,"  said  Rabaut.     "  Give  it  to  me. 

" '  • they  came  to  Thessalonica,  where  there  was  a  syna- 
gogue of  the  Jews.* 

" '  And  Paul,  as  his  manner  was,  went  in  unto  them,  and  three 
Sabbath  days  reasoned  with  them  out  of  the  Scriptures — '  " 

Rabaut  paused  without  raising  his  eyes.  Gebelin  smiled. 
And,  in  fact,  after  the  discussion  which  had  just  taken  place, 
these  last  words  were  strangely  pointed. 

" '  Opening  and  alleging  that  Christ  must  needs  have  suffered, 
and  risen  again  from  the  dead?  " 

Then  came  several  illegible  lines. 

" ' they  drew  certain  brethren  unto  the  rulers  of  the  city, 

crying,  These  that  have  turned  the  world  upside  down  are  come 
hither  also.'  " 

"  They  were  really  very  foolish,"  said  Gebelin.  "  Why  did 
they  not  quietly  follow  the  religion  of  their  fathers  ?  What 
folly  to  wish  to  change  what  had  been  in  existence  for  so  many 
*  Acts,  xviL 


148  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

centuries!  The  Jewish  Church,  moreover,  had  received  the 
most  magnificent  promises  from  God.  What  temerity  to 
suppose  it  degenerate,  and  capable  of  being  mistaken !" 

"  Are  we  to  re-commence  our  discussion  ?"  asked  the  mis- 
sionary. 

"  I  beg  pardon — I  had  forgotten." 

"  Those  who  are  persecuted,"  said  Rabaut,  "  find  it  difficult 
not  to  seize,  especially  in  the  Scriptures,  all  that  may  appear 
to  them  an  allusion  to  their  misfortunes." 

"  Pardon,"  repeated  Gebelin.  "  And  yet,  since  the  subject 
•was  mentioned,  permit  me  to  ask  whether  the  comparison 
which  I  hinted  at  has  never  presented  itself  to  your  mind  1 
You  enumerate  promises  which  indicate,  according  to  you,  that 
your  church  cannot  be  wrong  ;  and  that,  consequently,  when 
she  condemns  us,  we  are  justly  and  fitly  condemned.  I  do  not 
wish  at  this  moment  to  discuss  these  promises.  I  admit  that 
it  is  to  you,  to  you  alone,  that  they  are  and  can  be  addressed. 
But  the  Jews  received  far  more  magnificent  ones — " 

"  For  a  time." 

"  Agreed ;  but  allow  me  to  finish.  They  received  much 
clearer  promises,  I  say,  since  there  was  no  one  among  them 
who  dreamed  of  doubting;  whilst  there  have  always  been, 
even  before  our  day,  some  Christians  who  did  not  interpret  as 
you  do,  the  aid  promised  to  the  church.  These  promises, 
moreover,  had  been  confirmed  by  facts.  God  had  presided 
visibly,  as  it  were,  over  the  destiny  of  His  people ;  He  had 
not  ceased  to  watch,  not  only  in  the  ordinary  way,  but  by 
special  ministers,  by  prophets,  over  the  purity  of  the  faith 
preached  by  Moses.  Thus  the  Jews  had  all  the  reasons  for 
believing  in  the  infallibility  of  their  church,  which  you  have  for 
believing  in  the  infallibility  of  yours ;  they  had  them  corrobo- 
rated by  the  history  of  many  ages,  during  which  the  Divine 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  149 

manifestation  had  been  plain  and  incontrovertible.  This  as- 
surance, you  say,  was  only  for  a  time.  Yes ;  but  it  was  to 
last  at  least  until  the  moment  when  they  should  pass  under 
another  law.  When  the  body  of  doctors  denied  that  Jesus 
was  the  Christ,  what  sign  was  there  that  they  were  not  the 
only  and  true  directors  of  the  nation  ?  None.  Nothing  had 
yet  announced  that  the  primitive  promises  were  not  still  in 
force.  And  yet  they  were  grossly  mistaken.  You  also, — even 
if  there  were  ages  when  you  could  not  be  mistaken, — you  may 
be  mistaken  now ;  and  if  the  high  priest  erred  in  not  receiving 
the  Christian  law,  may  not  the  bishop  of  Rome  have  erred  in 
anathematizing  Luther  and  his  companions  ?  So  that — " 

"  Do  not  urge  the  question,"  said  Rabaut.  "  He  could  not 
read  a  line  which  would  not  furnish  materials  for  observations 
of  this  kind.  I  continue. 

" ' and  these  all  do  contrary  to  the  decrees  of  Ccesar — '  " 

But  Court  again  interrupted. 

"  Yes ;  not  a  line,  in  fact,  in  this  picture  of  the  persecutions 
of  those  days,  which  does  not  seem  written  for  us,  and  against 
the  laws  which  oppress  us.  '  They  do  contrary  to  the  decrees 
of  Caesar,'  was  said  at  Rome.  '  They  do  contrary  to  the  decrees 
of  the  king,'  you  repeat  in  France ;  and  thereupon — " 

"  I  never  have  thought  it  right,"  said  Bridaine,  "  that  civil 
authority  should  intervene  in  matters  of  faith." 

"  You  condemn  persecution  T' 

"I  abhor  it." 

"  God  be  praised !  Here  is  at  least  one.  But  how,  then, 
how  can  you  remain  the  minister  and  friend  of  a  church  which 
persecutes  ?  How,  at  least,  can  you  help  rebelling  against  the 
horrors  with  which  she  pollutes  herself?" 

"  Monsieur  Rabaut  has  seen  me  at  work  among  the  Protest- 
a»"ts  of  Languedoc.  Let  him  say  whether  I  had  recourse  to — " 


150  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"No,"  replied  Rabaut,  "but  you  do  not  answer.  You 
preached  indulgence,  it  is  true ;  you  did  not  wish,  you  said, 
any  other  weapon  but  persuasion ;  but  you  knew  very  well  that 
before  you,  behind  you,  on  each  side  of  you  were  men  animat- 
ed by  very  different  principles.  You  knew  that  these  Protest- 
ants to  whom  you  never  addressed  yourself  otherwise  than  as 
brothers,  were  treated  like  enemies,  like  slaves,  like  the  off- 
scouring  of  humanity.  When  and  to  whom  have  you  ever 
said  plainly  that  there  should  be  freedom  of  conscience,  that 
God  alone  has  the  power  and  the  right  to  direct  it,  that  it  is  an 
abuse  and  a  sacrilege  to  come  between  God  and  conscience? 
When  and  to  whom  have  you  ever  said — but  pardon  !  It  is 
not  you  but  your  Church  who  must  be  appealed  to.  The 
employment  of  force  is  a  necessary,  inevitable,  fatal  conse- 
quence of  the  principles  which  she  has  laid  down.  As  soon  as 
she  no  longer  has  power  in  her  hands,  as  soon  as,  for  one  reason 
or  another,  she  ceases  to  employ  it,  what  is  she  more  than  any 
other  church  1  As  soon  as  she  talks  of  reasoning,  of  persuad- 
ing, of  convincing,  what  is  Rome  more  than  Geneva  ?" 

"  And  her  unity  ?"  said  Bridaine,  "  and  the  co-operation  of 
so  many  millions  of  men  ?" 

"  In  a  worldly  point  of  view  it  is  clear  that  the  position  is  a 
much  better  one.  You  undoubtedly  possess  all  that  would 
make  those  who  are  disposed  to  receive  a  religion  ready  made, 
cast  themselves  into  your  arms  rather  than  into  those  of  our 
ministers.  What  I  meant  to  say,  and  what  you  will  not  deny, 
is  that  constraint  once  done  away  with,  a  reflecting  man  feels 
himself  immediately  as  free  in  respect  to  your  instructions  as 
ours.  Unity,  numbers,  seniority,  all  these  are  nothing  more 
than  a  presumption  in  your  favor,  it  is  true,  but  which  cannot 
be  weighed  against  arguments,  against  facts.  I  repeat  it ;  do 
away  with  constraint  and  you  have  nothing  more  than  we  have. 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  151 

Is  it  not  proved  at  this  very  time  ?  We  have  been  discussing 
with  you  for  nearly  an  hour.  Have  you  found  that  the  unity, 
the  infallibility  of  your  Church  have  given  you  any  advantage 
over  us  1  Have  you  even  endeavored  by  argument  to  con- 
vince us  of  this  unity,  this  infallibility  ?  These  latter  are  no 
arguments,  as  you  must  feel,  except  with  those  already  con- 
vinced or  disposed  to  be  so  without  examination.  In  themselves 
they  prove  nothing,  for  they  themselves  must  always  be  proved 
in  the  first  place,  and  then  we  are  again  on  those  grounds  of 
logical  reasoning,  to  which  nothing  else  has  a  right  to  resort 
but  simple  good  sense  and  history.  If  we  had  given  up  just 
now,  would  it  have  been  because  you  are  the  organ  of  one 
Church  rather  than  another  1  By  no  means.  We  would  have 
yielded  to  your  reasons,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  authority  of 
reason,  not  to  that  of  a  man  or  of  a  Church.  If  we  do  not 
yield,  if  your  reasons  appear  to  us  insufficient,  what  can  you  do 
more  than  any  other  doctor?  What  can  your  Church  do? 
There  is  no  medium  :  she  must  either  leave  us  in  peace, — or 
persecute  us.  And  in  this,  permit  me  to  remark,  we  see  the 
first  chastisement  of  her  pride.  She  must  be  exclusive,  intol- 
erant, and  cruel, — or  else  she  immediately  descends  to  the 
level  of  those  sects  of  which  she  speaks  with  so  much  contempt. 
She  cannot  remain  what  she  is  without  constantly  compromis- 
ing herself  yet  more  in  the  eyes  of  humanity  and  reason  ;  she 
cannot  change  without  forswearing  herself." 

"  Toleration,  I  see,"  said  Bridaine,  "  would  not  find  you  very 
grateful." 

"  We  would  be  very  grateful  towards  the  men  who  might 
grant  us  toleration,  although,  strictly  speaking,  there  is  no  oc- 
casion to  be  grateful  for  the  cessation  of  an  injustice ;  as  for 
your  Church,  there  is  no  likelihood  of  her  furnishing  us,  of  her 
own  free  will,  an  opportunity  of  being  ungrateful." 


152  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  How  do  you  know  ?     A  pamphlet  has  recently  appeared — " 

"  The  Conciliator,  you  mean  ?" 

"  Yes.     You  would  subscribe  to  it  almost  entirely." 

"  That  is  true." 

"  Do  you  know  by  whom  it  was  written  1" 

"  Not  by  a  priest,  certainly." 

"  You  are  mistaken.  It  is  by  the  abbe  de  Brienne,  grand 
vicar  of  the  archbishop  of  Rouen." 

"  Indeed  ?  Well,  let  us  wait  until  he  becomes  archbishop 
himself.  If  he  persists  I  shall  confess  myself  vanquished." 

"You  are  inexorable." 

"It  is  because  I  know  with  whom  we  have  to  deal.  You 
have  no  lack  of  those  young  priests,  who  half  from  liberality, 
half  from  infidelity,*  emulate  each  other  as  to  who  shall  be  most 
tolerant.  But  once  in  possession  of  office,  and  what  has  become 
of  all  this  fine  talk  ?  Within  a  few  years,  many  of  those  who 
were  most  distinguished  in  the  saloons  of  Paris  for  the  breadth 
and  generosity  of  their  views,  have  risen  to  the  episcopal 
dignity.  What  have  they  done  for  us  ?  Or  rather  what  have 
they  not  done  against  us  1  It  is  quite  simple.  As  soon  as  a 
man  becomes  one  of  the  heads  of  the  church,  he  must  deny  her 
tenets,  or  do  as  she  does.  After  the  frightful  anathemas  with 
which  your  popes  have  loaded  us,  what  bishops  could  treat  us 
as  brethren  ?  After  the  encouragement  given  by  your  Church 
to  those  sovereigns  who  persecute  us,  after  the  pompous 
eulogiums  so  often  showered  by  her  upon  those  who  have  done 
us  the  most  injury,  who,  without  condemning  her,  could  blame 
that  which  she  has  so  often  counselled,  so  often  ordered,  so  often 
commended !  No,  no  !  We  shall  never  obtain  anything  from 
her.  If  toleration  is  to  be  established,  it  will  not  be  without 

*  The  abbe  de  Brieune  was  closely  connected  with  the  abb£  de 
Morellet 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  153 

her  having  struggled  till  the  last  moment  to  maintain  intoler- 
ance. If  peace  be  established,  the  Church  may  submit  to  it ; 
but  as  to  extending  her  hand  to  it,  never  1" 


XXXII. 

INTOLERANCE     OF     THE     C1ERGT. 

Was  Gcbelin  too  severe  ?  It  might  be  thought  so  then,  es- 
pecially in  the  presence  of  Bridaine  ;  but  events  have  proved 
that  he  was  but  too  correct.  It  is  known  that  the  clergy 
struggled  to  the  very  last,  against  the  tolerant  views  of  Louis 
XVI.  and  his  council.  And  as  for  this  very  abbe  Brienne,  (the 
author  of  the  pamphlet  on  toleration,)  he  thus  expresses  him- 
self after  becoming  an  archbishop,  in  an  address  to  this  king 
upon  the  occasion  of  his  coronation,  when  he  had  been  made  to 
swear,  according  to  custom,  "  honestly  to  exterminate  all 
heretics." 

"  You  will  reject,  Sire,  the  counsels  of  a  false  peace,  the  sys- 
tems of  a  guilty  toleration.  We  implore  you  to  do  so  ;  do  not 
delay  to  deprive  error  of  the  hope  of  having  temples  and  altars 
among  us  ;  complete  the  work  begun  by  Louis  the  Great,  and 
continued  by  Louis  the  Well-beloved.  It  is  reserved  for  you 
to  give  the  finishing  stroke  to  Calvinism  in  your  kingdom. 
Order  that  the  assemblies  of  the  Protestants  shall  be  dispersed. 
Exclude  sectarians  without  distinction  from  all  branches  of  the 
public  administration  ;  and  you  will  assure  to  your  subjects  the 
unity  of  a  true  Christian  worship." 


154  RABAUT     AXD     BRIDAINE,     OR 


XXXIII. 

BRIDAINE    CHOOSES    HIS    TEXT. UNIVERSAL  DIFFUSION  OF  KNOWL 

EDGE    AFTER    THE   REFORMATION. 

"  God  will  judge,"  said  Bridaine. 

"  God  will  judge,"  said  Rabaut.     "  Let  us  continue. 

"  '•And  they  troubled  the  people,  and  the  rulers  of  the  city  when 
they  heard  those  things. 

"  '•And  when  they  had  taken  security  of  Jason  and  of  the  other, 
they  let  them  go. 

"  '•And  the  brethren  immediately  sent  away  Paul  and  Silas  by 
night  unto  Berea,  who  coming  thither,  went  into  the  synagogue 
of  the  Jews. 

" '  These  were  more  noble  than  those  of  Thessalonica,  in  that 
they  received  the  word  with  all  readiness  of  mind,  and  searched 
the  Scriptures  daily  whether  these  things  were  so."1 " 

Rabaut  without  pausing,  had  emphasized  these  last  words. 

"Well?"  said  Gebelin. 

"  Well  ?"  said  the  missionary. 

"  I  will  not  ask  you,"  continued  Gebelin,  "  for  it  would  be 
almost  a  sarcasm,  if  you  will  take  that  for  a  text ;  but  let  me 
ask  you  once  more,  seriously,  fraternally,  what  you  make  of 
these  lines.  Here  are  people  to  whom  it  does  not  appear  as 
if  even  an  apostle  should  be  believed  on  his  mere  assertion  ; 
here  is  the  companion  of  the  labors  of  the  apostle  Saint  Luke, 
author  of  the  book  of  Acts,  who  is  not  contented  with  looking 
upon  it  as  very  natural,  but  who  praises  them  very  highly  for 
it.  They  believed,  but  only  when  they  found  in  the  Scrip- 
tures— " 

"  In  what  Scriptures,  if  you  please  ?     In  the  Old  Testament, 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  155 

in  the  prophecies  which  predicted  Jesus  Christ.  Nothing  more 
natural,  as  you  say,  than  to  consult  them,  since  their  object 
was  to  aid  the  Jews  in  recognizing  the  Messiah.  Is  it  the  same 
with  the  New  Testament  ?  Are  the  books  which  it  contains  of 
such  a  nature  that  their  contents  can  and  must  be  known  only 
by  reading  them  ?  Have  you  not  yourselves,  in  your  churches, 
people  who  do  not  read  them  ?  People  who  do  not  know  how 
to  read  ?" 

"  As  for  the  last,  we  have  scarcely  any  of  them  ;  and  it  is  no 
small  praise  to  the  Reformation,  be  it  said  en  passant,  that  it 
has  done  so  much  from  its  very  commencement  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  masses.  '  Where  two  or  three  could  read  before,' 
says  Luther,  somewhere,  '  you  will  now  scarcely  find  two  or 
three  who  cannot.'  And  if  it  were  not  so,  what  would  that 
prove  ?  Is  a  law  just  and  good  only  provided  every  one  chooses 
to  profit  by  it  1  Because  in  a  Church  there  are  people  who  do 
not  know  how  to  read,  and  who  do  not  care  to  know,  shall  this 
Church  have  the  right  to  exact  that  I  shall  accept  as  they  do,  a 
religion  ready  made,  and  that  I  shall  give  up  the  right  to  ex- 
amine it  ?  Confess,  my  friend,  confess  that  you  are  ill  at  ease 
when  you  are  forced  to  give  to  intelligent,  conscientious,  re- 
flecting men,  such  reasons  as  these !  Are  you  perchance  igno- 
rant with  what  vigor  they  were  refuted  in  the  early  ages  by 
these  same  writers  whose  authority  in  all  other  matters  appears 
to  you  so  high  and  so  holy  ?  A  folio  volume  might  be  made  of 
all  that  they  have  said  upon  this  subject.  There  is  one  sermon 
especially,  of  Chrysostom,  which  one  might  believe  written  by 
a  Protestant  of  our  day,  so  clearly  and  directly  does  it  reply 
to  the  objections  made  to  us.  '  When  we  receive  money,'  he 
says, '  we  wish  to  count  it  ourselves  ;  and  when  things  divine 
are  at  stake,  shall  we  shut  our  eyes  and  seize  the  offered 
opinions  of  others  ]  Consult  then  the  Scriptures.'  But  they 


156  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAINE,     OR 

are  not  plain  enough.  '  The  Holy  Spirit,  he  continues.  '  has 
confided  the  writing  of  them  to  unlettered  men,  in  order  that 
all,  even  the  most  ignorant,  may  understand  and  profit  by  the 
Word.'  But  have  we  time  to  occupy  ourselves  with  these 
things  ?  '  Let  no  one  present  these  miserable  pretexts  to  me ; 
I  must  gain  a  livelihood  ;  I  must  bring  up  my  children.  It  is 
not  for  me  to  read  the  Scriptures,  but  for  those  who  have  re- 
tired from  the  business  of  the  age.  Poor  man !  Is  it  because 
thou  art  distracted  by  a  thousand  cares,  that  it  is  not  thy  busi- 
ness to  read  the  word  of  God  1  Why  thou  hast  far  more  need 
of  it  than  those  who  have  retired  from  the  world  to  give  all 
their  time  to  God.'  Thus  speaks  Chrysostom.  Do  you  find 
one  of  the  Fathers  who  does  not  say  about  the  same, — one 
who  has  preached  from  the  Bible  without  recommending  and 
prescribing  the  reading  of  it, — one,  in  short,  who  has  put  any 
other  restrictions  to  this  right,  to  this  duty,  rather, — than  the 
obligation  to  read  it  with  attention  and  respect  ?  No,  no !  no 
more  of  these  idle  reasons  in  which  you  yourself  do  not  be- 
lieve. The  true,  the  only  reason  is,  that  you  are  afraid  of  the 
Bible." 

"Afraid!  Good  God!"  cried  Bridaine.  "Afraid  of  the 
Bible !" 

"  Not  you,  as  a  Christian,"  said  Eabaut.  "  Certainly  not. 
I  know  well  enough  that  you  love  it ;  I  know  with  what  ad- 
mirable vigor  you  set  forth  its  instructions.  But  it  is  one 
thing  to  talk  of  it  in  the  pulpit,  and  another  to  place  it  in  the 
hands  of  the  faithful.  In  the  pulpit,  when  you  can  quote  it  in 
support  of  your  assertions,  you  do  so ;  when  you  cannot,  you 
let  it  pass,  but  you  do  not  say  that  you  cannot.  The  hearer 
who  has  confidence  in  you,  supposes  always  that  you  can. 
Never  having  seen  the  book  as  a  whole,  he  imagines  it  contain- 
ing in  the  plainest  manner,  all  that  you  teach  him ;  he  cannot 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  151 

doubt  that  these  things  all  occupy  a  place  in  it,  proportionate 
to  the  importance  which  they  have  in  your  Church.  This  is 
an  error  which  the  sincerest  among  you  are  forced  to  abstain 
from  correcting.  Thus  every  priest,  even  the  most  disposed  to 
love,  to  quote  the  Bible,  and  to  communicate  all  its  pages  one 
after  the  other  to  his  flock,  is  necessarily  afraid  of  putting  it 
into  their  hands  entire.  He  feels  that  they  would  not  find  it 
what  they  must  imagine  it  to  be,  from  the  instructions  and 
practices  of  the  Church ;  he  is  alarmed  to  think  what  great 
gaps  the  most  submissive  of  the  faithful,  if  he  reflect  a  little, 
cannot  fail  to  find  in  it.  But  for  the  last  time  let  us  go  on. 
— I  do  not  ask  you  to  answer. — I  ask  no  justification. — We  are 
not  your  judges. — God  will  judge,  as  you  said  just  now. — Let 
us  continue." 

"  Go  on." 

"  Ah  !  here  is  half  a  page  entirely  illegible.  It  was  the  dis- 
course of  Saint  Paul  in  the  Areopagus.  Shall  we  take  the 
other?" 

"  No  ;  I  said  that  I  would  take  my  text  from  this  leaf." 

"  But  there  is  nothing  more. — Ah !  yes, — here  is  one  more 
verse. 

"  Because  God  hath  appointed  a  day  in  which  he  will  judge 
the  world." 

XXXIV. 

DUTIES   OF  PREACHERS  AND  HEARERS. 

"  That  is  it !"  exclaimed  the  missionary.  "  That  sums  up 
admirably  what  I  have  to  say  to  these  fine  lords,  to  these  grand 
ladies,  who  look  upon  it  as  a  merry-making.  I  am  told,  to  come 
and  hear  me  preach !  I  will  make  them  perceive,  at"  least 
once,  in  its  most  terrible  aspect,  that  religion  which  they  make, 


158  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

or  which  is  made  for  them,  so  large,  so  easy,  so  convenient.  I 
was  hesitating  ;  was  asking  myself  if  I  would  not  do  better 
to  avoid  such  a  sensation.  But  no. — I  am  decided.  It  is  the 
will  of  Grd.  He  has  spoken  to  me  by  this  leaf." 

"  Good,"  said  Rabaut ;  "  it  is  well,  brother !  I  love  to  see 
this  confidence  and  earnestness.  What  should  we  poor  laborers 
for  the  Lord  do,  if  we  did  not  feel  ourselves  from  time  to  time 
under  His  immediate  direction  ?  Go, — speak.  It  is  He  who 
sends  you  to  this  crowd  of  brilliant  sinners." 

"  Perhaps  so.  But  He  has  sent  so  many  others  to  them, — 
and  so  many  others  have  failed  !" 

"  Discouraged  already  ?" 

"  No.  But  every  time  that  I  go  into  the  pulpit,  I  cannot 
help  asking  myself,  What  will  remain  in  a  month,  in  a  week,  in 
a  few  hours,  of  the  discourse  which  is  to  be  listened  to  ?  What, 
after  all,  am  I  going  to  do,  I  think  to  myself,  if  not  to  render 
'  almost  all  my  audience  more  guilty  ?  They  know  all  that  I 
am  going  to  tell  them.  They  have  been  a  thousand  times 
reproved  for  the  same  things  in  regard  to  which  I  am  now 
going  to  reprove  them.  They  have  promised  a  thousand  times 
all  that  I  am  now  going  to  make  them  promise.  O  lamentable 
dissimulation,  where  He  who  is  deceived  is  God !" 

"  Alas !"  said  the  minister,  "  how  many  times  have  I  thought 
the  same  thing  within  myself!  I  am  less  exposed  than  you, 
it  is  true,  to  preach  to  an  audience  who  come  for  form's  sake. 
I  scarcely  preach  to  any  people  but  those  who,  in  addition  to 
our  habitual  perils,  must  brave  cold,  heat,  rain,  snow,  and  dis- 
tance, in  order  to  hear  me.  Even  if  all  these  sacrifices  did  not 
prepare  their  hearts  to  receive  religious  impressions,  it  would 
still  be  natural  that  they  should  endeavor  to  profit  by  a  sermon 
so  de*arly  bought.  But  unhappily,  in  the  country  as  in  the 
city,  beneath  the  vault  of  heaven  as  well  as  beneath  those  of 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  159 

your  temples,  human  nature  is,  and  always  has  been,  the  same. 
I  also  have  often  asked  myself  whether,  in  preaching  to  those 
who  listened  little  or  carelessly,  I  ought  not  to  fear  aggravating 
their  responsibility  in  the  sight  of  God.  But  what  is  to  be 
done?  Must  we  give  up  preaching  the  gospel?  Must  we 
soften  it  so  much,  that  our  hearers,  in  violating  it,  shall  be  as 
little  guilty  as  possible  ?  God  forbid !  And  yet  I  think  that 
there  is  a  way  of  profiting  by  your  remark ;  I  think  that  the 
preacher,  without  weakening  any  of  the  commands  or  threats 
of  the  word  of  God,  can  and  ought  to  avoid  a  too  frequent 
presentation  of  those  to  which  he  positively  knows  that  his 
hearers  will  pay  but  little  attention.  It  is  a  sort  of  charity, 
which,  like  all  others,  may  degenerate  into  weakness ;  but  it 
should  not  on  that  account  be  given  up.  I  do  not  like  to  hear 
death,  the  judgment,  and  hell,  brought  forward  on  every 
occasion. 

'  Nee  Deus  inter  sit,  nisi  dignus  vindice  nodus' 

I  will  willingly  say  with  Horace.  Not  that  the  thought  of  God 
and  of  eternity  ought  not  to  breathe  forth  from  your  smallest 
words.  Let  it  hover  unceasingly  above  your  audience,  but 
always  too  high  for  them  to  grow  familiar  with  the  holy  ter- 
rors which  accompany  it.  It  is  only  a  poor  commander  who 
would  bring  forward  the  whole  of  his  army  on  every  occasion. 
Nothing  leads  more  surely  to  success  than  to  know,  on  all 
occasions,  exactly  what  energy  and  force  to  employ." 

"And  yet,"  observed  Bridaine,  "this  precept  is  perhaps 
more  correct  in  rhetoric  than  in  religion.  There  are  no  little 
sins,  strictly  speaking.  All  displease  God,  if  not  equally,  at 
least  sufficiently  to  prevent  any  true  Christian  from  ever  saying 
to  himself,  '  This  is  one  from  which  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
abstain.'  But  that  which  true  Christians  do  not  say,  the 


160  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,    OR 

wicked,  who  are  the  great  majority,  have  a  great  inclination  to 
say.  If  they  at  last  perceive  that  you  reserve  your  thrcaten- 
ings  for  sins  of  a  graver  sort,  will  they  not  feel  themselves 
more  and  more  authorized  to  think  that  there  are  little  sins, 
which  leads  immediately  to  the  conclusion  that  they  may  be 
committed  without  fear  of  consequences  ?" 

"Your  remark  is  correct,"  said  Rabaut.  "I  may  even  add, 
that  it  astonishes  me  to  hear  it  from  your  lips,  and  that  this  is 
another  point  in  regard  to  which,  you  without  knowing  it,  are 
better  than  your  Church.  Nothing  can  be  more  unchristian,  as 
you  said,  than  the  division  of  sins  into  trivial  and  important ; 
but  what  else  in  reality  is  your  division  of  them  into  venial 
and  mortal?  However  that  may  be,  to  return  to  your  idea,  I 
think  that  it  would  in  fact  be  very  dangerous  in  certain  cases, 
to  manifest  an  intention  to  allow  the  great  terrors  of  the  law  to 
rest  undisturbed.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  soften  them,  to  cover 
them,  to  be  false  in  short,  to  the  ministry, — and  another  to  ab- 
stain from  scattering  them  too  plentifully  at  the  risk  of  leading 
people  to  pay  no  more  attention  to  them.  A  preacher  who 
can  do  nothing  without  having  recourse  to  this  extremity,  is 
like  the  wagoner  held  fast  in  the  mud,  who  invokes  the  gods, 
instead  of  disengaging  his  wheels ;  or  if  you  choose,  he  is  like 
him  who  cannot  hold  his  whip  without  cracking  it  every  mo- 
ment, so  that  his  horses  at  length  take  no  more  notice  of  it. 
Once  having  adopted  this  style,  it  is  difficult  to  abandon  it.  It 
is  only  the  most  violent  efforts  which  still  from  time  to  time 
gain  some  little  attention,  and  produce  some  few  results. 
These  great  resources  which  have  been  so  miserably  worn  out 
must  then  be  rejuvenated  by  grandiose  expressions  ;  this  pal- 
try mixture  of  a  merely  human  style,  will  destroy  the  little 
of  true  grandeur  which  may  have  remained." 

"  I  believe  in  truth,"  added  Bridaine,  "  that  when  we  com- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  161 

plain  of  the  little  impression  produced  by  the  grandest  ideas, 
we  ought  often  te  begin  by  seeing  if  it  is  not  more  or  less  our 
own  fault.  A  cook, — (excuse  me  the  comparison, — it  will  go 
with  that  of  the  wagoner ; — )  a  cook,  I  say,  who  saw  the  finest 
and  most  highly-seasoned  dishes  received  with  indifference, 
would  doubtless  have  reason  to  complain  of  the  guests  ;  but  he 
would  be  very  wrong  at  the  same  time,  to  put  himself  out  of 
the  question,  and  not  to  inquire  in  what  respect  he  himself 
may  have  contributed  to  the  ill  success  of  which  he  complains. 
To  return  to  ourselves,  I  believe  nothing  would  be  more  in- 
structive than  an  examination  of  this  sort.  It  would  be  a  new, 
interesting,  and  eminently  practical  manner  of  studying  pulpit 
eloquence. 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  minister.  "  A  conscientious  preacher 
cannot  fail  to  have  sometimes,  by  instinct,  followed  the  method 
you  mention ;  but  the  study  would  gain  by  being  systematized. 
In  place  of  proceeding,  as  is  generally  the  case,  from  the  rules 
to  their  application,  we  should  go  from  the  application  to  the 
rules  ;  in  place  of  asking  what  must  be  done,  we  should  analyse 
what  we  have  done ;  in  short,  instead  of  discussing  the  results 
to  be  obtained,  we  should  examine  those  that  have  been  ob- 
tained, and  according  to  what  is  lacking  in  these,  we  may  per- 
ceive what  has  been  faulty  in  our  manner  of  proceeding.  It 
would  be  the  best  method  of  keeping  constantly  in  view  not 
only  the  secondary  and  conventional  object  of  writing  more  or 
less  correct,  or  more  or  less  eloquent  sermons ;  but  the  true 
and  only  object,  that  of  instructing  or  regenerating.  Let  us  not 
ask,  '  what  must  I  say  in  order  to  persuade  them  ?'  but,  '  what 
would  be  necessary  to  persuade  me .'  A  true  preacher  beholds 
himself  seated  among  his  audience.  For  him,  the  first  sinner 
to  be  condemned,  is  himself.  This  position,  I  know,  is  diffi- 
cult to  take,  difficult  to  keep." 


162  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Almost  impossible,"  said  the  missionary ;  "  and  this,  when 
T  examine  myself  in  the  presence  of  God,  is  one  of  my  chief 
subjects  of  confusion.  How  many  times,  after  a  long  and 
vehement  sermon,  have  I  suddenly  perceived  that  I  had  taken 
none  of  it  to  myself;  that  it  had  not  even  entered  my  mind  to 
do  so!  How  many  times  have  I  not  even  perceived  this 
omission!  And  how  can  we  be  surprised,  after  that,  that 
others  quit  the  church  as  we  do  the  pulpit !  Always  the  story 
of  the  mote  and  the  beam,  alas !  We  complain  that  we  are 
unheeded  by  our  hearers,  and  we  do  not  even  heed  ourselves." 

"  Or  we  heed  ourselves  too  much." 

"  It  is  the  same  thing :  forgetfulness  of  the  substance  is 
closely  connected  with  an  undue  attention  to  the  form.  Here, 
surely,  we  are  not  altogether  in  fault.  However  able  or  pious 
a  preacher  may  be,  he  must  pay  more  or  less  attention  to  his 
words,  his  phrases.  If  he  extemporizes,  he  must  seek  them ; 
if  he  recites,  he  must  recollect  them.  But  what  preacher  can 
boast  of  never  having  given  more  attention  to  the  form  of  his 
discourse  than  was  strictly  necessary  ?  Who  will  assert  that 
he  has  never  sought  in  the  looks  and  motions  of  his  audience 
the  human  and  worldly  effects  of  his  words  ?  Ah !  we  say 
often  enough,  in  theory,  that  we  must  desire  the  safety  of  souls 
before  all  else ;  but  even  among  those  whose  chief  aim  it  is, 
find  me  one  who  has  not  frequently  been  more  occupied  with 
his  human  than  his  spiritual  success,  and  more  pained  by  the 
failure  of  one  sermon  than  the  fruitlessness  of  twenty  others !" 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Gebelin,  "  reassure  yourselves.  These 
are  things  in  regard  to  which,  if  a  man  feels  his  weakness,  that 
very  fact  makes  him  strong.  Socrates  was  right  in  believing 
himself  to  have  learned  much,  when  he  had  learned  to  know 
that  he  knew  nothing.  And  that  which  he  said  of  human 
wisdom,  the  gospel  authorizes  us  to  say  of  the  wisdom  of  God. 


THE     COURT    OF     LOUIS     XV.  163 

Christian  perfection  in  all  things  is  less  to  be  perfect,  than  to 
feel  conscious  of  our  imperfections.  As  for  myself,  if  I  did  not 
already  know  that  you  are  perhaps  the  most  worthy  in  this  age 
to  speak  in  the  name  of  God, — what  I  have  just  heard  would 
be  sufficient  to  convince  me." 

"  Enough !"  they  exclaimed. 

"Enough,"  repeated  the  minister.  "Since,  according  to 
your  own  opinion,  it  is  our  humility  which  constitutes  our  only 
merit,  do  not  deprive  us  of  it  by  praises  on  which  our  poor 
hearts  are  but  too  much  inclined  to  feast  themselves.  Let  us 
rather  continue  our  reading.  You  have  a  text,  Monsieur.  It 
is  now  my  turn." 

XXXV. 

RABAUT'S    TEXT . — R OMAN    FISCAL    CODE. 

"  Your  turn  ?"  said  the  missionary,  astonished. 

"  Yes,  I  wish  one  also.     I  read  for  you,  read  now  for  me." 

"  Shall  we  discuss,  as  we  go  on  ]" 

"  Why  not  f 

"  Because  we  have  discussed  only  too  much  already." 

"  Are  we  less  friends  than  before  ?" 

"  I  hope  not." 

"  You  hope  ?     /  am  sure." 

Bridaine  took  the  other  leaf  and  read  : 

" '  Go  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel.* 

"  '  And  as  ye  go,  preach,  saying,  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at 
hand. 

" '  Heal  the  sick,  cleanse  the  lepers,  raise  the  dead,  cast  out 
devils  ;  freely  ye  have  received,  freely  give?  " 

He  stopped,  and  smiled. 

*  Groapel  according  to  Saint  Matthew.     Chapter  X. 


164  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  If  I  had  not  picked  up  these  leaves  myself,"  he  said,  "  I 
would  believ  e  that  you  had  selected  them." 

"  Is  there  then  any  necessity  that  we  should  select,"  said 
Gebelin,  "  in  order  to  stumble  upon  things  which  your  Church 
would  like  better  to  forget  ?" 

"  Come,"  replied  Bridaine,  "  I  await  the  tempest." 

"  It  will  not  be  a  very  severe  one,"  said  Rabaut ;  "  you  expect 
too  violent  an  attack,  for  I  see  from  your  manner  that  you  are 
no  partisan  of  the  Roman  fiscal  code,  and  that  you  like  not  to 
see  those  sell,  whose  master  said  to  them,  '  Give.' " 

"  Yes,  I  confess  it.  If  I  had  to  order  a  reformation,  I  think 
I  should  begin  there,  for  there  is  nothing  which  does  more  in- 
jury to  religion,  to  the  priests — " 

"  To  the  priests  doubtless,  but  more  especially  to  religion. 
I  do  riot  speak  of  the  attacks  to  which  this  system  exposes  it 
from  infidels,  mockers  and  superficial  men.  Those  are  either 
allowed  to  say  what  they  will,  or  are  required  to  observe,  that 
it  is  necessary  the  priest  should  live ;  that  if  they  wish  to  pay 
nothing,  they  are  free,  etc.  But  there  is  a  graver  aspect ;  it  is 
the  moral  degradation  of  religion,  in  the  minds  even  of  those 
who  pay  without  complaining,  and  who  see  nothing  evil  in  the 
custom  of  paying.  One  is  confounded  to  perceive  how  com- 
pletely holy  things  become,  in  their  eyes,  a  merchandize  like 
any  other ;  but  the  final  consequence  of  these  perpetual  pur- 
chases, from  baptism  to  burial,  from  the  confessional  to  pur- 
gatory, is  the  opinion, — not  actually  taught  by  you,  but  none 
the  less  profoundly  engraved  upon  the  hearts  of  multitudes, — 
that  salvation  may  be  purchased,  and  that  the  only  necessity, 
in  fact,  is  to  pay  well  for  it.  I  do  not  enter,  you  perceive,  upon 
the  irritating  side  of  the  question.  I  do  not  say,  that  your 
priests  receive  by  this  means  most  exorbitant  revenues ;  I  as- 
sert, that  of  all  the  means  of  providing  for  the  maintenance  of 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  165 

worship  and  of  its  ministers,  this  is  the  least  compatible  with 
the  true  interests  of  religion  and  the  true  dignity  of  the  minis, 
try.  The  evil  is  not  that  recourse  should  have  been  had  to  it 
at  periods  when  it  was  perhaps  necessary  ;  but  that  it  should 
not  have  been  abandoned  as  soon  and  as  universally  as  possi- 
ble, that  it  should  no  longer  be  felt  how  vicious  and  fatal  the 
system  is." 

"  I  have  shown  you  what  I  feel  in  regard  to  it,"  said  Bridaine. 
"  I  shall  now  continue. 

" '  And  whosoever  shall  not  receive  you  nor  hear  your  words, 
when  ye  depart  out  of  that  house  or  city,  shake  off  the  dust  of 
your  feet. 

" '  Behold  I  send  you  forth  as  sheep  in  the  midst  of  wolves. 
Be  ye—' " 

"  You  do  not  stop  there  f  interrupted  Eabaut.  "  If  you 
but  knew  how  much  we  love,  in  the  midst  of  all  our  sufferings, 
to  read  these  words  of  our  Saviour  to  His  disciples !  All  these 
gloomy  prophecies,  with  which  He  mingled  the  glimpses  of 
His  grace,  are  seized  by  us  as  so  many  appeals  to  our  zeal, 
and  aids  to  us  in  our  misery.  '  Behold  I  send  you  forth  as 
sheep  in  the  midst  of  wolves  !'  How  many  a  time  I  have  said 
it,  in  the  name  of  my  Master,  to  the  poor  flocks  lost  among  so 
many  adversaries,  to  the  poor  shepherds  upon  whom  I,  their 
brother,  laid  my  hands,  sending  them  to  their  work  with 
almost  the  certainty  that  they  were  going  to  meet  their  death  ! 
Listen.  In  eighteen  months,  if  I  live,  I  have  to  officiate  at  one 
of  these  ceremonies.  I  have  a  new  sheep  to  send  forth  among 
your  wolves.  It  is  my  son.  I  shall  preach  on  that  day.  This 
shall  be  my  text." 

They  looked  at  one  another  with  deep  emotion.  Bridaine 
could  scarcely  restrain  his  tears. 


166  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Give  me  my  leaf,"  said  Rabaut.  "  Here  is  yours.  On 
Monday  then — " 

"  You  are  coming  to  hear  me  preach  again  ?" 

"  Certainly.     And  you,  shall  you  ever  hear  me  ?" 

"  I  hear  you  T 

"Why  not?" 

"But  when?" 

"  When  I  preach  from  this  text  which  you  have  given  me." 

"  But  where  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

«  But,  then—" 

"  God  will  order  it.  Adieu,  I  am  going  to  see  your  pris- 
oner." . 

Rabaut  departed,  and  a  short  time  after,  Bridaine  quitted 
Gebelin. 

XXXVI. 

THE  KING'S  GAMBLING  MONEY. WINES. THE  OLD  ELMS. 

RICHELIEU'S  IDEAS  IN  REGARD  TO  THE  SUPREME 
AUTHORITY  OF  KINGS. 

Two  or  three  days  after  this  conversation,  if  we  had  been 
permitted  to  enter  the  smaller  apartments  of  the  chateau  of 
Versailles,  we  should  have  found  towards  evening,  in  the  same 
room,  seated  upon  the  same  arm-chairs,  beside  the  same  chim- 
ney-piece, the  two  men  whom  we  have  already  seen  there  on  a 
former  occasion. 

Now,  as  then,  they  had  just  returned  from  a  walk  in  the 
gardens ;  now,  as  then,  one  of  them  had  exhausted  for  the  en- 
tertainment of  the  other,  all  that  the  court  and  city  could  fur- 
nish of  anecdotes,  news,  and  little  or  great  scandals  ;  now,  as 
then,  the  one  had  become  weary  of  listening,  the  other  of  relat- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  167 

ing,  and  ennui,  after  having  followed  them  step  by  step  among 
the  marvels  of  Le  Notre  and  Marigny,  had  come  and  installed 
itself  before  them  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  palace. 

The  king,  however,  was  even  sadder  and  more  ennuye  than 
usual.  The  marquise  de  Pompadour  had  thought  proper  to 
celebrate  her  sudden  return  to  favor  by  a  number  of  brilliant 
fetes.  The  chateau  of  Bellevue  had  been  illuminated ;  the  old 
royal  forests,  so  silent  and  solitary  since  the  king  no  longer 
went  to  the  chase,  had  echoed  with  the  sound  of  the  horn,  the 
baying  of  the  hounds,  and  the  brisk  gallop  of  the  horses  through 
the  pathways  overgrown  with  bushes.  But  all  these  sounds 
had  failed  to  awaken  an  echo  in  the  desolate  heart  of  the 
monarch.  These  gaily  spent  days  only  served  to  increase  the 
vacancy  within  ;  and  although  he  had  beforehand,  but  little  ex- 
pectation of  any  other  results,  still  he  had  groaned  in  secret  to 
find  no  other.  Thus  it  is  that  the  invalid  declares  in  vain,  that 
he  has  no  faith  in  the  efforts  made  to  save  him ;  it  is  still  with 
a  painful  stupefaction  that  he  beholds  his  prediction  confirmed. 

In  this  state  in  which  nothing  can  quiet  his  anguish,  the 
thing  most  calculated  to  increase  it,  is  that  there  should  still  be 
a  remedy  which  occurs  to  him,  but  of  which  he  is  obliged  to 
deprive  himself. 

This  painful  increase  of  misery,  the  king  had  felt  for  some 
days. 

The  emotions  excited  by  gaming  had  been  from  his  child- 
hood one  of  his  resources  against  his  incurable  ennui;  but  he 
had  been  obliged  to  increase  them  gradually,  like  the  drinker 
who  must  have  his  wines  stronger  and  stronger.  For  some 
years  past,  mountains  of  gold  had  alone  been  able  to  stimulate 
him  sufficiently  to  prevent  him  from  becoming  as  weary  of  this 
as  of  everything  else.  He  generally  lost ;  and  as  his  dignity 
exacted  that  in  case  he  won  he  should  restore  in  some  other 


168  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

form  all  that  he  had  gained, — his  gambling  funds,  as  they  were 
called,  formed  one  of  the  heaviest  expenses  of  his  private 
budget. 

Now  the  comptroller-general  Monsieur  de  Silhouette,  had 
just  required  the  suppression  of  this,  either  in  order  to  lighten 
general  expenses  or  in  order  to  authorize  more  important  sup- 
pressions. The  king  had  submitted ;  but  he  suffered  very 
much  from  it,  and  every  day  increased  his  suffering. 

After  having  done  his  best  to  enliven  him,  Richelieu  had 
finished  by  holding  his  peace  and  sulking  a  little.  These  were 
his  usual  tactics  in  order  to  force  him  to  listen  a  little  better, 
or  to  gain  his  consent  to  some  new  pleasure,  that  is  to  say,  some 
new  ennui.  We  saw  that  it  aided  him,  the  preceding  week, 
to  bring  the  king  once  more  under  the  old  dominion  of  the 
marquise.  And  on  these  occasions  it  was  always  the  king  who 
took  the  first  step. 

"  Richelieu,"  he  said,  "  what  are  you  thinking  about  1" 

"  I  ?  nothing,"  replied  the  marshal.  "  I  am  too  good  a  ser- 
vant of  your  Majesty,  ever  to  occupy  myself  otherwise  than 
you  do." 

"  Here  is  a  new  sort  of  flattery  !  When  I  see  you  commit- 
ting a  folly  I  am  to  conclude  that  I  have  just  committed  one 
also  ?  But  you  are  mistaken,  Richelieu !  No ;  I  was  very  far 
from  thinking  of  nothing.  Tell  me,  Monsieur  the  governor  of 
Guyenne,  is  there  any  drinkable  wine  in  the  Bordelais  coun- 
try?" 

It  often  happened  that  the  poor  king  cut  short  his  sad 
thoughts  by  seizing  abruptly  upon  a  subject  which  had,  for  that 
matter,  always  been  a  favorite  one  of  the  Bourbons.  From 
father  to  son,  this  race  eat  and  drank  largely  and  with  relish, 
and  it  was  no  jest  that  among  the  three  talents  attributed  by 
the  old  song  to  Henry  IV.,  their  ancestor,  was  numbered  that 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  169 

of  a  "  good  drinker."  None  of  them,  however,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  regent,  had  carried  it  to  excess ;  but  what  was  not 
excess  for  them  would  have  been  so  for  many  others.  Louis 
XIV.  at  the  summit  of  his  glory,  and  Louis  XVI.  surrounded 
by  his  gaolers,  submitted  equally  to  the  laws  of  their  imperi- 
ous appetite.  It  was  still  more  natural  that  it  should  reign 
despotically  over  a  prince  who  had  neither  the  distractions  of 
glory,  nor  the  preocupations  of  misfortune. 

The  duke  was  accordingly  not  surprised  at  this  curious  in- 
terpellation. The  governors  were  accustomed  to  hear  them- 
selves questioned  in  regard  to  the  best  productions  of  their 
provinces,  and  it  would  have  been  dangerous  for  any  one  com- 
ing from  Perigord  to  neglect  the  collection  of  all  possible  in- 
formation in  regard  to  the  truffle  crop. 

It  is  true  that  the  governor  of  Guyenne  might  have  known 
at  this  period,  but  little  of  the  wines  belonging  to  his  jurisdic- 
tion. To  the  shame  of  the  fashion,  be  it  said,  the  laughing  hills 
of  the  Bordelais  had  until  now  been  little  noticed.  Neither  the 
king  nor  any  one  else  at  Versailles  had  in  all  probability  ever 
tasted  their  productions.  He  did  not  even  ask  if  the  wine  were 
good,  but  whether  it  was  drinkable. 

Happily,  Richelieu,  who  was  unceasingly  upon  the  track  of 
something  new,  in  gastronomy  as  in  all  else,  had  made  a  toler- 
ably profound  examination  of  the  subject. 

"  Sire,"  he  replied,  "  they  have  what  they  call  white  Sau- 
terne,  which,  though  far  from  being  so  good  as  that  of  Mon- 
rachet,  or  that  of  the  little  slopes  in  Burgundy,  is  still  not  to  be 
despised.  There  is  also  a  certain  wine  from  Grave  which 
smacks  of  the  flint  like  an  old  carabine.  It  resembles  Moselle 
wine  but  keeps  better.  They  have  besides  in  Medoc  and 
Bazadois,  two  or  three  sorts  of  red  wine,  of  which  they  boast 
a  great  deal.  It  is  nectar  fit  for  the  gods,  if  one  is  to  believe 


170  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

them  ;  yet  it  is  certainly  not  comparable  to  the  wine  of  Upper 
Burgundy.  Its  flavor  is  not  bad,  however,  and  it  has  an  in- 
describable sort  of  dull  saturine  acid  which  is  not  disagreeable. 
Besides,  one  can  drink  as  much  as  one  will.  It  puts  people  to 
sleep  and  that  is  all." 

"  It  puts  people  to  sleep  ?"  said  the  king.  "  Send  for  a  pipe 
of  it." 

"I  will  write  for  it  this  evening,  sire." 

"  By  the  way,  they  say  that  the  Bordelais  are  furiously  an- 
gry at  you." 

"  At  me  !     And  pray  why  ?" 

"  Certain  trees  were  mentioned — " 

"  They  have  not  yet  done  with  that "?  What  memories  these 
provincials  have !" 

"  What  was  it  about  these  trees  ?  I  do  not  exactly  recol- 
lect." 

"  Some  old  elms,  sire,  which  were  to  be  cut  down  to  make 
room  for  a  magnificent  theatre.  The  aldermen  opposed  it ; 
the  citizens,  in  order  to  provoke  me,  took  sides  with  the  alder- 
men. The  matter  must  be  brought  to  an  end.  So,  one  fine 
morning,  the  trees  are  found  lying  on  the  ground.  Thereupon, 
as  your  Majesty  may  well  imagine,  a  grand  uproar  was  raised ; 
but  in  the  meantime,  my  ground  was  ready,  and  the  theatre 
was  built.  Did  I  not  do  them  a  service  f 

"  Perhaps  so ;  but  it  was  their  right,  I  think,  to  refuse.  A 
governor — " 

"  A  governor,  sire,  is  your  representative, — is  the  king." 

"  And  have  I  the  right  to  cut  down  the  trees  in  a  city  which 
do  not  belong  to  me1?" 

"You  certainly  have  that  of  cutting  off  the  heads  in  it." 

"  After  judgment." 

"  After  and  before." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  171 

* 

"  Indeed  ?  Suppose  you  go  and  say  that  to  the  gentlemen 
of  the  parliament." 

"  And  I  would  say  it  to  their  faces,  confound  them,  the  im- 
pudent lawyers !  What,  sire !  are  you  too  going  to  fancy  that 
your  power  has  limits  ?  Who  established  these  parliaments  1 
In  whose  name  do  they  judge  ?  Are  not  you,  in  France,  the 
supreme  and  only  judge  ?  These  gentlemen  are  simply  your 
councillors  in  matters  of  justice,  just  as  your  councillors  of 
state  and  your  ministers  are  in  executive  matters.  Are  you 
bound  by  the  decisions  of  your  ministers'?  Are  you  even 
obliged  to  consult  them  1  No,  sire,  no  !  Your  power  has  no 
other  bounds  than  those  which  you  choose  to  put  to  it.  The 
laws  and  ordinances  by  which  judgment  is  regulated  were 
made  by  yourself  and  your  predecessors.  You  can  modify 
them,  change  them,  abolish  them.  They  only  exist  in  you,  as 
do  the  bodies  which  use  them.  Take  a  bit  of  paper,  and  write 
upon  it,  '  No  more  parliaments.'  Sign  it, — and  there  will  be 
no  longer  any  parliaments." 

The  old  duke  could  understand  no  jesting  upon  the  subject 
of  royalty.  He  was,  in  fact,  supported  by  history.  The  king 
was  the  supreme  and  only  judge.  No  limit  was  found  to  his 
power,  the  fixing  of  which,  upon  going  back,  was  not  to  be 
found  in  this  power  itself.  We  still  regard  with  admiration 
Louis  IX.  personally  administering  justice  beneath  the  oak  at 
Vincennes.  What  did  he  do  but  exercise,  as  a  father,  it  is 
true,  but  still  exercise  the  most  terrible  and  absolute  authority  1 

Louis  XV.  liked  well  enough,  in  theory,  these  doctrines 
which  asserted  that  there  was  no  reason  why  a  king  of  France 
should  not  be  a  despot,  after  the  manner  of  the  sultans,  if  it 
pleased  him.  Practically,  he  was  afraid.  His  weakness,  aided 
by  a  sufficient  quantity  of  common  sense,  permitted  him  to  see 
the  too  logical  absurdity.  It  was  not  until  ten  year^  after, 


172  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

when  the  parliaments  consolidated  their  pretensions  to  be  of 
themselves  something  in  the  state,  into  a  system,  that  he  ven- 
tured to  make  a  solemn  appeal  to  ancient  facts  and  principles. 
On  the  seventh  of  December,  1770,  all  the  parliament  of  Paris 
being  at  his  order  met  together,  clothed  in  crimson  robes,  in 
the  saloon  of  the  guards,  at  Versailles,  he  made  his  appearance 
in  all  the  splendor  of  royal  majesty.  The  parliament,  stand- 
ing and  uncovered,  was  to  listen  and  be  silent.  "  Messieurs," 
said  the  chancellor  Maupeou,  "  his  Majesty  must  believe  that 
you  will  receive  with  submission  a  law  containing  the  true 
principles,  etc.*  Go  back  to  the  first  institution  of  the  parlia- 
ments, follow  them  in  their  progress.  You  will  see  that  they 
receive  their  existence  and  power  from  the  king  alone,  and  that 
the  plenitude  of  power  resides  always  in  the  hand  which  has 
communicated  it.  They  are  neither  an  emanation  nor  a  part 
one  of  the  others.  The  authority  which  created  them  circum- 
scribes their  jurisdiction,  and  fixes  its  subjects  as  well  as  its 
extent.  Charged  with  the  application  of  the  laws,  it  is  not  for 
you  either  to  extend  or  restrict  their  stipulations.  When  the 
law-giver  wishes  to  manifest  his  will,  you  are  his  organ,  and 
his  goodness  permits  you  to  be  his  council.  There  your  min- 
istry ends.  The  king  weighs  your  observations ;  he  judges  of 
the  advantages  or  disadvantages  of  the  law ;  and  if  he  then 
commands,  you  owe  him  the  most  perfect  submission.  If  your 
rights  were  more  widely  extended,  you  would  no  longer  be  his 
officers,  but  his  masters,  etc." 

*  The  edict  which  the  parliament  had  refused  to  register  contained 
three  principal  stipulations : 

1st.  Prohibition  to  the  parliaments  from  considering  themselves  ao 
connected  one  •with  tho  other,  and  forming  but  one  body.  2d.  Prohibition 
from  interfering  in  political  affairs.  3d.  Prohibition  from  deferring  the 
execution  of  edicts,  when,  after  having  heard  their  remonstrances,  the 
kiug  should  abide  by  his  fi"st  orders. 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  173 

This  was  harsh,  but  rigorously  true.  To  maintain  the  con- 
trary, and  yet  assert  themselves  to  be  the  supporters  of  the 
old  monarchy,  was — no  offence  to  Messieurs — a  lie.  But  how 
can  we  be  astonished  that  Messieurs  were  not  in  favor  of  the 
old  doctrines,  when  the  king  himself  dared  not  be  so  ? 

XXXVII. 

THE     KING     SEES     MORE     CLEARLY. A     PLAN. 

"  Well  said,  Richelieu  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Your  late  grand- 
uncle,  the  cardinal,  could  not  have  spoken  more  properly. 
But,  my  poor  Richelieu,  he  lived  one  hundred  and  twenty 
years  ago." 

"  And  suppose  it  were  five  hundred  ?" 

"  You  would  be  a  hundred  times  more  mistaken, — though 
you  are  quite  right  all  the  time." 

"  What  matter  is  it  to  them  whether  you  can  or  cannot  do 
everything,  provided  that  you  wish  to  do  what  is  for  their 
good,  and  keep  up  some  few  formalities  ?" 

"  You  kept  up  formalities  finely — you,  my  representative, 
as  you  say — with  your  trees  at  Bordeaux !  You  have  made 
me  perhaps  more  enemies  down  there  than  the  cardinal  made 
for  Louis  XIII.  by  decapitating  a  Montmorency.  The  abuse 
of  power  in  little  things  contributes  far  more  to  alienate  the 
people  from  us  than  its  abuse  in  great  matters.  Besides,  we 
are  no  longer  in  those  days  when,  provided  the  king  was  good, 
no  one  troubled  himself  as  to  whether  it  was  in  his  power  to 
dc  evil.  They  want  guarantees  now." 

"  And  by  what  right  do  they  want  them  ?" 

"  Understand,  my  friend,  that  I  am  here  the  advocate  neither 
of  my  parliament  nor  my  people.  They  want  them — because 


174  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

they  want  them.  I  do  not  pronounce  whether  they  are  right 
or  wrong ;  I  only  state  facts.  I  repeat  it,  they  want  guaran- 
tees. It  is  not  enough  for  them  that  I  am  good — or  passable ; 
they  begin  to  wish  it  out  of  my  power  to  be  otherwise.  You 
know  Quesnay,  the  physician  of  Madame  de  Pompadour.  It 
was  remarked, — indeed  I  had  myself  remarked, — that  he 
avoided  my  presence.  The  marquise  at  last  alluded  to  it  one 
day.  '  Madame,'  he  said,  '  I  do  not  like  to  see  a  man  who 
could  with  a  word  have  my  head  cut  off.'  '  Nonsense !'  she 
replied ;  '  the  king  is  so  good !'  But  he  went  away  shaking 
this  head  which  I  permit  him  to  keep,  and  muttering,  'So 
good ! — so  good !  What  does  that  prove  ?' " 

"  Impertinent  fellow,"  said  Richelieu. 

"  Impertinent  if  you  choose,  but  impertinent  fellows  of  this 
kind,  begin  to  be  so  very  numerous,  that  they  will  have  to  be 
consulted  some  of  these  days." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  not  see  that  day." 

"  Your  children  will  see  it.     And  the  noble  oaks  of  your 
park,  Richelieu,  may  one  day  pay  well  for  the  bourgeois  elms  . 
of  the  aldermen  of  Bordeaux." 

"  Still  talking  of  these  elms,  sire  ?" 

"  You  would  never  guess  what  made  me  think  of  them  again. 
for  the  story  is  rather  old,  and  I  confess  that  I  had  entirely  for- 
gotten it.  Do  you  remember  the  passage  in  which  Father 
Bridaine  gave  us  the  other  day  such  good  receipts  for  getting 
rid  of  all  incumbrances  upon  the  way  of  salvation  ?  '  No  re- 
flections,' he  said.  '  Seize  the  axe,  and  let  the  first  stroke,  if 
possible,  be  an  irreparable  one,  that  it  may  deprive  you  of  all 
thought  of  regretting  the  obstacle,  and  your  adversaries  all 
thought  of  setting  it  up  again.'  Good  !  I  said  to  myself;  that 
is  the  way.  It  is  not  exactly  your  practice,  I  fancy,  in  matters 
•>f  salvation  ;  but  at  any  ratCj  this  axe,  this  irreparable  blow 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  175 

struck  at  the  outset,  made  me  think  of  your  freak  in  Guyenne, 
more,  I  confess,  than  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  it  during  the 
sermon." 

"  Poor  preachers !  while  they  are  sweating  with  their  en- 
deavors to  reason  firmly,  and  carry  on  the  minds  of  their 
hearers  with  them,  they  do  not  imagine  that  as  they  gc  on, 
they  can  bring  up  all  sorts  of  odd  ideas,  A-hich  will  take  root 
there  instead  of  their  own." 

"  It  is,  in  fact,  not  the  first  time,"  said  the  king, "  that  I  have 
caught  myself  during  a  sermon,  a  hundred  miles  away  from 
preacher,  sermon,  church,  and  everything  around  me.  As  I 
retraced  my  steps,  I  have  amused  myself  by  remarking  by 
what  a  series  of  jumps  my  thoughts  had  gone  over  the  ground. 
To  hinder  those  excursions  is,  I  should  think,  one  of  the  great- 
est, but  likewise  one  of  the  rarest  and  most  difficult  triumphs 
of  the  orator.  I  love  secretly  to  play  certain  preachers  the 
trick  of  not  following  them,  but  leaving  them  to  fight  all 
alone ;  but  there  are  some  on  the'  contrary,  whom  I  reproach 
myself,  afterwards,  for  not  having  followed  more  closely. 
Father  Bridaine  is  among  this  number.  He  pleased  me  de- 
cidedly. I  should  like  to  hear  him  again,  but  how  shall  I?  I 
cannot  have  him  preach  at  court.  It  would  be  a  blow  to  the 
marquise,  the  abbe  Narniers,  the  bishop,  and  all  their  friends, 
and — to  myself  too  somewhat." 

"  Let  us  go  incognito  to  Paris,  and  hear  him." 

"  To  Paris  1 — What  are  you  talking  about1?  I  never  have 
been  there  incognito  in  my  life,  except  to  the  Opera  balls." 

"  Well  1  When —  But  I  beg  pardon.  I  believe  I  was  go- 
ing to  say  something  foolish." 

"  It  appears  then  that  I  have  just  done  so." 

"  Your  Ma^sty  1 — " 

"  Well !    Did  you  not  decide  that  you  were  too  good  a 


176  RABAUT     AND     B  HI  I)  A  INK,     Olt 

servant  ever  to  do  anything  else  but  what  you  have  just  seen 
me  do?" 

"  Your  Majesty  has  a  good  memory." 

"  And  a  sharp  scent,  eh  1  '  When  the  devil  grew  old  he  be- 
came a  hermit.'  That  was  the  end  of  your  sentence.  Con- 
fess." 

"  It  is  very  certain  that  if  it  were  known  that — " 

"  That  the  hermit  of  the  Parc-aux-cerfs — " 

"  Went  incognito  to  Paris,  it  would  be  little  imagined  that 
he  went  to  hear  a  sermon." 

"  We  will  do  what  we  can  about  it.     I  will  go.3' 

"  We  will  go.  Ah  !  I  believe  that  madame  la  'marquise  is 
coming." 

"  Do  not  go  and  tell  her  about  this,  I  beg  !" 

"  No,  sire." 

XXXVIII. 

MADAME  DE  POMPADOUR'S  BUDGET  OF  ANECDOTES. A  NEW 

PLAN  TO  AMUSE  THE  KINO. 

The  king  had  been  amused  for  a  few  moments.  He  felt  the 
vague  pleasure  of  a  sick  man  who  has  passed  an  hour  without 
suffering,  or  who,  on  awaking,  finds  the  night  further  spent 
than  he  had  ventured  to  hope. 

Madame  de  Pompadour  perceived  this  slight  clearing  up  at 
the  first  glance.  Her  task  of  amusing  the  king  was  to  be  a 
little  less  difficult  than  usual  this  evening.  Richelieu  received 
for  his  trouble,  a  half  glance  of  gratitude. 

She  had,  foi  that  matter,  an  ample  fund  of  anecdotes.  There 
were  enough  fjr  her  to  relate  for  an  hour  at  least,  and  she  told 
•  story  admirably. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  177 

It  was  about  the  abbe  Coquet,  a  good  old  priest,  who  had 
been  arrested  by  a  sergeant  who  had  heard  some  talk  of  seiz- 
ing the  Abbe  Coquet,  a  villainous  little  romance  which  was  sold 
surreptitiously.  Or  it  was  a  village  cure,  who  was  preaching 
about  sudden  deaths,  and  cried :  "  Thus  it  is  with  us.  We  go 
to  bed  well,  and  get  up  stone  dead !" 

Or  it  was  an  old  councillor,  Monsieur  d'Herbaut,  who,  writ- 
ing to  one  of  his  friends  of  an  estate  which  he  has  just  bought, 
adds,  that  there  is  a  chapel  upon  it,  "  in  which  my  wife  and  I 
wish  to  be  buried,  if  God  spares  our  lives." 

Or  it  was  Monsieur  de  Zurlauben,  a  dull  savant,  whom  it 
•was  said  Mademoiselle  de  Lussan  had  described  as  "  an  im- 
mense library,  the  librarian  of  which  is  a  fool." 

Or  it  was  the  Chevalier  de  Florian,  who  going  to  see  the 
wood  work  which  was  being  laid  down  at  the  Palais-Royal, 
had  put  his  finger  so  far  into  a  pine  knot  that  he  remained 
caught  there.  His  rescue  had  required  an  hour's  labor,  to  the 
great  jubilatidh  of  the  duke  of  Orleans  and  his  court. 

Or  it  was  the  duchess  of  Orleans,  who  had  put  a  guaze  cap 
upon  the  head  of  the  old  baron  d'Estelan,  who  had  gone  to 
sleep  in  her  saloon,  and  allowed  him  to  go  to  the  theatre  in  this 
pretty  costume. 

Or  it  was  the  princess  de  Carignan,  who,  in  the  midst  of  a 
numerous  company,  had  felt  one  of  her  mole  skin  eyebrows 
coming  off,  and  had  put  it  on  again — but  upside  down,  which 
made  a  moustache  of  it. 

"  But  apropos  of  the  princess  de  Carignan,"  said  the  mar- 
quise ;  "  does  your  Majesty  know  what  happened  to  her  pro- 
tege, poor  d'Orbigny  1" 

"  D'Orbigny  ?    I  saw  him  yesterday,"  said  the  king. 

"  For  the  last  time,  perhaps." 

"Ah!" 


178  RABAUT     A\D     I5RIDAINE,     OR 

"  He  was  almost  crushed  to  death,  in  the  Rue  Saint-Denis, 
by  one  of  those  new  vehicles.  You  know — " 

"  A  cabriolet  ?" 

"  Yes.  For  this  name  begins  to  take,  and  it  is  not  inappli- 
cable, I  assure  you.*  Nothing  is  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  of 
Paris,  but  these  hopping,  jumping  machines.  The  foot  passen- 
gers do  not  know  what  is  to  become  of  them." 

"  And  have  there  been  any  others  hurt  ?"  asked  the  king. 

"A  number,"  said  Richelieu,  "but  only  commoners.  New 
here  is  a  gentleman  wounded." 

"  If  I  were  chief  of  the  police,"  said  the  king,  "  I  would  pro- 
hibit these  cabriolets." 

Was  he  jesting  1  No.  Every  day  something  or  other  led 
him  to  make  the  remark  that  if  he  were  such  an  one,  he  would 
do  such  a  thing.  But  the  courtiers  took  care  not  to  notice 
these  strange  observations.  It  would  have  seemed  too  much 
as  if  they  perceived  his  indolence. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartine,"  said  Richelieu,  "has  a  tolerable 
amount  of  business  on  hand,  just  now.  Thieves  are  plenty , 
the  convulsionaries  have  again  taken  to  performing  miracles  ; 
and  the  actresses  are  so  insolent,  that  some  one  of  them  has  to 
be  sent  to  For-1'Eveque  every  day." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  king,  "  and  at  For-1'Eveque  the  bolts  are 
scarcely  drawn  after  them,  before  your  finest  equipages  dash 
up,  gentlemen  ;  and  the  lieutenant  of  police  has  more  trouble 
in  refusing  your  petitions  in  favor  of  these  fine  ladies,  than  to 
take  charge  of  all  the  thieves  and  convulsionaires  in  Paris." 

"  If  it  were  not  for  us,  what  would  become  of  the  theatre  ?" 

"  Oh  !  go  on — go  on.  Happy  are  those  who  have  it  in 
their  power."  % 

"  Sire,"  said  the  marquise, "  it  is  a  long  time,  it  seems  to  me, 
*  Cabrioler,  verb, — to  jump,  to  cut  capers.  Tr. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  179 

since  we  have  acted  anything  for  you.  What  would  you 
think  of  a  little  representation  at  Bellevue  ?" 

"  In  July  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?  We  could  have  a  little  theatre  arranged  in  the 
open  air.  We  would  have  only  a  few  select  guests ;  only  a 
few  of  the  best  musicians.  We  might  play  some  little  piece, 
Le  Devln  de  Village*  for  instance,  which  you  liked  so  much. 
I  have  been  amusing  myself  lately  by  looking  over  the  part  I 
used  to  play  in  it.  I  still  know  it  pretty  well." 

"You  think  so?" 

He  smiled  his  most  malicious  smile.  The  part  which  she 
used  to  play  !  She  carried  the  matter  off  very  well,  however  : 
"  Yes,  sire,"  she  said,  in  the  most  innocent  tone.  "  The  music 
is  so  simple, — so  touching.  Even  your  Majesty  remembered 
some  of  the  airs." 

It  must  be  observed  that  Louis  XV.  had,  as  Rousseau  said, 
the  most  wretched  voice  in  his  kingdom.  He  knew  it  perfectly 
well,  and  to  remind  him  of  his  singing  was  a  very  good  way  to 
repay  him  for  his  epigram. 

He  went  on  smiling,  however.  But  suddenly,  with  a  more 
serious  air,  he  said  : 

"  When  shall  this  fete  take  place  ?" 

"  On  Monday,  sire." 

"  Impossible." 

She  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise,  and  as  if  awaiting  an 
explanation,  or  at  least  an  excuse.  But  she  received  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other. 

"  Tuesday,  then,"  she  continued,  in  a  half  offended,  half  un- 
certain tone. 

"  Tuesday  be  it." 

He  did  not  hope  to  conceal  from  her  his  expeditior  to  Paris, 
*  The  Village  Conjuror. 


180  RABAUT     AND     BRIDA1NE,     OR 

but  he  wished  her  at  least  not  to  know  it  beforehand.  lie 
asked,  moreover,  nothing  better  than  to  pique  her  curiosity. 
It  was  one  of  his  manias  to  perplex  people. 

XXXIX. 

RABAUT'S  MEMORIAL. — THE   PROTESTANT  CLERGY  IN  FRANCE. — 
THE  CATHOLIC  CLERGY. PERSECUTION. 

But  as  he  thought  again  of  Bridaine,  he  remembered  another 
person  from  whom  on  the  same  day,  and  at  the  same  moment, 
he  had  received  a  paper  which  he  had  not  seen  again.  Not 
that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  troubling  himself  much  in  regard 
to  the  fate  of  the  petitions  which  he  made  over  to  the  duke  de 
Richelieu.  Accident  only,  and  perhaps  also  the  physiognomy 
of  the  unknown  petitioner,  had  helped  him  to  remember  Rabaut. 

"  What  became,"  he  asked,  "  of  the  second  paper  which  I 
received  on  Sunday  ]" 

"  It  is  not  lost,  sire ;  but  it  treated  of  such  grave  mat- 
ters—" 

"  Good  ! — You  may  speak  to  me  of  it  another  time." 

"Besides,  before  speaking  to  your  Majesty  about  it,  I- 
thought  I  ought  to  send  for  the  author,  and  gather — " 

"Well,  well—" 

"  Only  a  word  more.  Did  your  Majesty  observe  the  per- 
Fon  ?" 

"  Why,  yes, — I  believe  so.     Who  is  it  ?" 

"  Ah,  sire,  you  would  never  guess  in  a  thousand  chances. 
It  was  Rabaut." 

"  Rabaut  1     And  pray  who  is  Rabaut  ?" 

•'Why,  Rabaut,  the  preacher,  the  pope  of  the  French 
Huguenots — Rabaut,  who  has  given  me  more  trouble  'in  gov- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  181 

erning  Languedoc,  than  all  the  Huguenots  put  together — Ra- 
baut,  against  whom  all  your  soldiers  have  been  sent  out  for  the 
last  twenty  years." 

"  All  very  possible.  But  it  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  the 
name." 

"  Why,  all  France  knows  it." 

"  All  very  possible,  I  tell  you.  Is  this,  then,  the  only  thing," 
he  added,  mournfully,  "  of  which  I  am  the  only  one  who  knows 
nothing." 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  as  if  reflecting  upon  the  reproach, 
of  which  he  himself  had  been  the  medium.  It  was,  in  fact, 
one  of  the  gravest  of  all  reproaches.  Certainly  no  one  had 
intentionally  concealed  from  him  a  name  so  generally  known. 
It  was  accordingly,  only  to  his  absolute  carelessness,  that  his 
ignorance  of  it  until  this  moment  was  to  be  ascribed. 

"  It  was  that  Rabaut  ?"  he  resumed.  "  He  is  brave,  cer- 
tainly. Is  there  not  a  penalty  of  death  against  these  preach- 
ers ?" 

"  Undoubtedly,  as  your  Majesty  confirmed  those  of  the  late 
king." 

"  Yes,  I  recollect. — I  have  signed  so  many  things  on  this 
subject  !*  What  kind  of  man  is  he  ?" 

"  A  man  who  must  be  seen  in  order  that  you  may  have  an 
idea  of  him  ;  a  soul  of  iron  in  a  body  apparently  feeble,  but 
in  reality  also  of  iron.  An  unprecedented  mingling  of  hu- 
mility in  all  that  regards  himself,  and  of  pride  in  all  that  con- 
cerns his  faith." 

*  A  pamphlet  published  in  1736,  contains  n,  catalogue  of  works,  pur- 
porting to  have  been  published  by  an  editor  of  Utrecht,  and  among  the 
number,  is  a  "  treatise  on  silence  and  timidity,  interspersed  with  notes 
upoq  indolence,  and  the  way  to  sign  one's  own  name  without  knowing 
•why, — by  S.  M.  T.  C."  (So,  Majctte  Tres  Chretienne.)  His  most  Chris- 
tian Majesty. 


182  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  You  have  seen  him,  then  ?" 
"  No  later  than  to-day." 

"  And  where  did  you  find  him  1  For  1  suppose  he  did  not 
wait  to  be  traced." 

"  On  the  contrary,  sire  ;  he  gave  his  name  and  address." 
"  Extraordinary  man  !  I  should  like  to  see  him." 
"  There  is  nothing  to  prevent,  sire.  He  is  in  my  apartments." 
"  In  yours  ?  Here  ?  At  the  chateau  !  He  is  not  afraid — " 
'*  Of  what,  sire  ?  By  giving  his  name,  he  appealed  to  your 
honor — and  mine.  It  is  a  truce.  When  he  has  gone  back  to 
his  mountains,  then  let  the  chase  begin  again.  I  believe,  how- 
ever, to  tell  the  truth,  that  he  will  never  be  taken.  He  is  so 
watched,  so  guarded  by  these  people,  that  only  the  most  un- 
heard-of chance  could  make  him  fall  into  our  hands.  Would 
it  be  any  great  gain  if  he  should  1  I  doubt  it.  In  the  first 
place,  in  spite  of  the  executions,  the  number  of  preachers  has 
not  ceased  increasing.  There  are  now  sixty,  it  is  said,  and  far 
too  well  organized  for  the  death  of  their  chief  to  scatter  them. 
It  would  only  increase  their  zeal.  Then  I  would  not  promise 
that  there  would  not  be  a  general  insurrection  throughout  the 
province ;  and  you  know  what  it  cost,  during  the  last  years  of 
the  late  king,  to  re-establish  quiet  there.  When  I  governed  in 
Languedoc,  I  did  all  that  was  possible  to  have  him  taken,  with- 
out concealing  from  myself  that  I  would  be  perhaps  very  sorry 
to  have  him  found.  I  knew  that  every  time  an  attempt  at 
insurrection  had  been  quieted  by  his  exertions,  the  hatred  had 
only  been  repressed  until  the  moment  when  he  should  be  cap- 
tured. There  is,  as  it  were,  a  tacit  arrangement  on  this  point 
which  is  positively  terrifying." 

"  Yes,  truly,"  replied  the  king.  "  And  if  it  were  allowed 
him  to  quit  the  country,  without  having  his  property  confis- 
cated, or  his  family  troubled  ?" 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  183 

"  It  has  been  proposed  to  him  often  enough.  More  has  been 
done.  It  was  attempted  to  force  him  to  it.  I  thought  of 
having  his  wife  and  children  arrested  at  Nimes,  and  to  make 
his  quitting  the  kingdom  the  condition  of  their  freedom.  Ac- 
cordingly, one  night  the  house  was  surrounded  by  a  hundred 
soldiers.  They  had  orders  not  to  carry  out  the  arrest  this 
time.  I  thought  the  fright  would  be  sufficient.  One  door  had 
accordingly  been  left  open,  in  order  that  the  wife  might  escape; 
but  it  was  soon  evident  that  nothing  was  to  be  gained  from  or 
through  her.  She  insisted  upon  remaining.  She  wished  to  be 
arrested,  she  said,  in  order  that  the  injustice  should  be  more 
flagrant.  She  was  at  length  put  out  of  the  house,  in  order  to 
give  her  the  appearance  of  having  escaped.  She  wandered 
about,  I  know  not  where,  for  two  years,  enduring,  with  her 
little  children,  all  sorts  of  hardships  and  fatigue,  rather  than 
persuade  her  husband  to  leave  France ;  advice,  for  that  matter, 
to  which  he  would  certainly  not  have  listened." 

"  What  became  of  her  1"  said  the  king ;  for,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, he  felt  interested  in  this  unheard-of  heroism  of  one  of  his 
victims. 

"  She  returned  at  length  to  Nimes,  where  she  was  left  in 
quiet." 

"  What  a  life,"  said  the  marquise,  "  is  that  of  these  women ! 
They  are  almost  all  married, — are  they  not  1" 

"Almost  all.  They  even  marry  generally  very  young. 
They  find  a  source  of  perseverance  and  courage,  it  is  said,  in 
these  unions  so  surrounded  with  danger." 

"Which  does  not  agree,"  said  the  king,  "with  what  our 
church  declares,  that  a  priest,  unless  he  is  single,  cannot  be  a 
devout  man." 

"  Bah !"  said  Richelieu.  "  Do  we  fight  any  the  worse,  pray, 
because  we  have  wives  and  children?  Our  priests  remain 


184  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

single  because  it  suits  them  to  do  so,  in  order  to  have  no  other 
interest  in  the  world  than  that  of  their  caste.  And  truly  those 
are  very  devout  men,  those  cassocked  bachelors,  whom  we  see 
crowding  around  the  toilettes  of  our  ladies !  People  do  me 
the  honor,  sire,  to  set  me  down  for  a  great  many  affairs  of  gal- 
lantry. I  do  not  know  whether  they  do  not  even  exaggerate  a 
little ;  but  this  much  I  can  say,  that  I  have  never  taken  the 
field  in  these  regions  without  finding  at  least  one  abbe  in  my 
way." 

"  You  are  very  severe,  Seigneur  Lovelace." 

*'•  Perhaps  so ;  but  against  whom  ?  With  all  my  heart  I 
pardon  these  poor  abbes,  who  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  con- 
sume the  fruits  of  their  benefices,  even  if  they  do  run  after  the 
forbidden  fruit ;  but  what  makes  me  angry  is,  to  hear  the 
clergy,  in  spite  of  this,  pretend  to  the  monopoly  of  virtues  and 
morals.  I  do  not  ask  that  they  shall  be  saints ;  but  let  them 
at  least  not  pretend  to  remain  single  in  order  to  be  so.  If  they 
wish  to  resemble  the  rest  of  mankind,  let  them  do  so ;  but  do 
not  let  them  begin  by  saying  that  they  belong  to  a  separate 
class.  I  have  seen  the  English  clergy ;  I  have  seen  the  clergy 
of  the  Protestant  States  of  Germany.  They  will  tell  you 
there,  in  their  somewhat  abrupt  biblical  style,  '  It  is  not  good 
for  man  to  be  alone.'*  But  among  so  many  thousands  of 
ecclesiastics,  years  pass  by  without  a  single  scandal  being  heard 
of;  and  when  the  people  wish  to  see  the  model  of  a  pure  and 
united  family,  they  have  only  to  go  to  their  pastors." 

"  Well  preached !"  said  the  king.  "  I  should  like  to  assem- 
ble the  gallant  abbes  in  my  dominions,  and  have  them  make  a 
retreat \  under  your  orders." 

*  Genesis,  ii.  c.,  18  v. 

f  A  phrase  applied  to  certain  periodical  retirements  from  the  world 
practiced  among  Roman  Catholics.  Tr. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  185 

"  At  your  service,  sire.  I  am  a  little  uneasy  about  one 
thing." 

"What?" 

"  I  fear  that  there  can  be  no  cathedral  found  large  enough  to 
lodge  them." 

The  king  laughed  immoderately,  the  marquise  less  heartily. 
As  may  be  imagined,  such  a  subject  was  not  calculated  to  put 
her  at  her  ease.  In  other  days,  the  king  would  have  taken 
care  not  to  continue  it ;  but  since  he  was  now  only  bound  to 
her  by  the  relaxed  ties  of  old  habit,  he  did  not  trouble  himself 
so  much. 

"  Do  not  abuse  the  abbes  of  my  kingdom  too  much,"  he 
said.  "  In  the  first  place,  the  lower  orders  of  priests  are  better; 
and  then  go  and  see  how  things  are  in  Spain,  Italy,  America, 
everywhere  that  the  clergy  are  all-powerful.  In  the  Spanish 
colonies,  the  excess  of  the  evil  has  finally  brought  a  sort  of 
remedy  with  it, — that  is  to  say,  many  of  the  priests  have  a 
woman  residing  with  them  whom  they  treat  almost  like  a  wife, 
appearing  with  her  in  public ;  bringing  up  her  children ;  mar- 
ried, in  short,  with  the  exception  of  the  ceremony.  For  that 
matter,  this  was  generally  the  case,  but  with  still  more  scandal, 
in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries.  When  Calvin  and 
Luther  attacked  us  on  these  points,  they  had  only  to  repeat 
what  had  for  a  long  time  been  said  even  in  the  church,  in 
books,  pamphlets  and  sermons,  everywhere.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  they  had  excuse  enough  for  declaiming  against  the 
celibacy  of  the  clergy." 

"  Ah  ha,  sire !"  exclaimed  Richelieu,  "  this  conversation 
smells  terribly  of  the  faggot !  If  this  Rabaut  heard  us,  I  think 
he  might  be  tempted  to  ask  us  why  we  persecute  him  and  his 
companions,  if  we  know  so  well,  upon  occasion,  how  to  differ 
in  opinion  from  the  church.  It  is  a  question  which  I  have 


186  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

sometimes  asked  myself,  for  that  matter,  particularly  when  I 
commanded  in  Languedoc.  Here,  I  said  to  myself,  are  these 
poor  people,  who  in  every  other  respect  are  examples  to  the 
province.  Sober,  industrious,  saving,  they  have,  in  spite  of  our 
tormenting,  kept  themselves  very  far  superior  to  the  surround- 
ing population.  The  ordinary  police  has  nothing  to  do,  so  far 
as  they  are  concerned.  It  is  a  miracle  when  one  of  them  has 
to  be  punished  for  anything  besides  his  religion.  '  Their  whole 
crime,'  as  Monsieur  de  Voltaire  says,  '  is  that  of  praying  to 
God  in  bad  French,  instead  of  doing  it  in  still  worse  Latin.' 
And  I,  who  would  have  scarcely  anything  to  do  in  the  province, 
if  it  were  entirely  peopled  with  such  quiet,  submissive  inhabit- 
ants,— I  must  persecute  them,  and  harass  myself  in  inventing, 
every  day,  some  new  injury  to  do  them,  some  new  vexation 
with  which  to  afflict  them  !  What  induces  me  to  do  it  ?  Do 
I  hate  them  ?  No.  Do  I  hate  their  doctrines  ?  I  have  been 
told  often  enough  that  I  must  hate  them ;  but  I  have  never 
examined  into  them,  and,  to  judge  from  their  effects,  they  do 
pot  seem  to  me  very  abominable.  Once  more,  I  ask  myself 
what  business  I  have  to  persecute  these  people  ?" 

"  You  have  to  execute  my  edicts,"  said  the  king. 

"  O  !  sire,  that  is  not  the  question.  Your  edicts  were  never 
better  executed  than  in  my  time.  The  governor  faithfully  per- 
formed his  duty ;  the  man  asked  himself,  privately,  if  it  would 
not  have  been  more  agreeable  had  his  duty  been  of  another 
nature  ?" 

"  That  is  very  nice  reasoning,  Richelieu,"  said  the  king,  a 
little  out  of  humor.  "  With  such  reasoning  as  this,  you  would 
soon  come  neither  to  obey  or  to  make  others  obey  any  longer." 

But  the  ill-humor  of  the  monarch  was  founded  upon  quite 
another  cause  than  the  fear  of  not  being  obeyed.  He  too  had 
vaguely  asked  h:mself  why  he  persecuted  the  Protestants;  and 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  1ST 

while  the  marshal  could  at  least  take  refuge  behind  the  edicts 
of  which  he  had  been  but  the  executor,  the  king  beheld  himself 
alone,  beneath  the  weight  of  a  gigantic  responsibility.  In  vain 
he  repeated  to  himself  that  he  had  found  the  system  already 
established ;  that  he  had  only  carried  out  the  errors  of  his 
predecessor.  Forty  years  of  persecution,  without  his  ever 
having  asked  himself  why !  This  was,  of  all  the  weaknesses 
of  his  reign,  the  most  odious  and  the  most  guilty.  The  revoca- 
tion of  the  edict  of  Nantes  had,  since  the  death  of  Louis  XIV., 
lost  all  the  grandeur  with  which  that  prince  knew  how  to  clothe 
the  most  monstrous  ideas,  the  most  iniquitous  measures. 
Louis  XIV.  had  believed  in  the  possibility  of  establishing  re- 
ligious unity  in  France ;  he  had  seriously,  strongly,  obstinately 
willed  it.  What  had  Louis  XV.  wished?  He  had  never 
known.  He  had  allowed  himself,  from  childhood  to  manhood, 
to  follow  in  the  bloody  track  marked  out  by  his  ancestor. 
Moreover,  when  Louis  XIV.  began  to  persecute  the  Protest- 
ants,  he  had  begun  to  become  a  good  Catholic ;  he  had  given 
up  his  irregularities ;  he  had  married  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
and  gave  to  religion,  or  what  he  considered  religion,  a  large 
place  in  his  life.  But  Louis  XV.,  in  the  midst  of  indifference 
and  immorality,  had  augmented  the  cruelties  of  the  great  king. 
His  hand  was  weary  of  signing,  even  without  having  read  them, 
edicts  which  a  blind  obedience  was  to  transcribe,  in  letters  of 
blood  and  fire,  on  the  remotest  parts  of  the  kingdom. 

XL. 

THE   KING   WILL    SEE    RABAUT. HE    WAVERS    AS    TO    HOW   HE 

WILL    RECEIVE    HIM. 

Such  were  the  sad  reflections  which  he  had  been  led  to  make. 
If  he  had  been  the  man  to  make  a  good  resolution  on  the 


188  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAINE,     OR 

spot. — (that  for  instance,  of  inquiring  seriously  into  the  state 
of  things,)  the  cause  of  the  Protestants  would  have  been  gained. 
He  would  of  his  own  accord,  accompanied  by  their  blessings, 
have  entered  upon  the  path  of  toleration  into  which  he  allowed 
himself  to  be  dragged,  ten  years  afterwards,  but  slowly,  and 
with  a  bad  grace, — far  more  from  weakness  and  indolence, 
than  from  humanity  or  reason,  and  without  carrying  with  him 
to  the  tomb  the  gratitude  of  any  being. 

After  a  tolerably  long  silence,  he  said  :  "  Richelieu,  I  wish 
to  see  this  man.  Go  and  bring  him." 

"  What !  sire,"  exclaimed  the  marquise,  "  in  earnest  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Does  your  Majesty  think  of  granting  their  demands  1" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  that.     And  you  ?" 

"  Ah !  sire,  it  would  be  one  of  the  most  glorious  days  of 
your  reign." 

He  looked  at  her  with  surprise.  Nothing,  until  now,  had 
ever  made  him  dream  of  such  language  from  her. 

Not  because  she  had  never  thought  of  the  wretchedness  of 
the  French  Protestants.  But  if  she  thought  of  them,  she 
thought  also,  and  still  more,  of  herself.  She  would  have  been 
wary  of  bringing  up  the  subject  so  long  as  she  saw  that  the  day 
had  not  come  when  she  might  gain  honor  and  profit  from  it. 
Secretly  imbued  with  the  liberal  doctrines  of  the  age,  nothing 
would  have  delighted  her  more  than  to  connect  her  name  with 
some  of  the  reforms  to  which  the  philosophers  promised  their 
incense,  and  she  would  have  been  doubly  flattered  to  receive 
with  the  praises  of  the  infidels,  the  blessings  of  men  persecuted 
for  their  faith.  Add  to  this  the  desire  of  being  avenged  on  the 
clergy,  by  whorr  she  looked  upon  herself  as  persecuted,  and  to 
whom  she  knew  that  nothing  could  be  more  displeasing  than  a 
relaxation  of  these  severities. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  189 

She  repented  however,  of  having  too  plainly  allowed  her  in- 
tention of  acting  in  this  direction  to  be  perceived.  The  king 
continued  to  look  at  her  fixedly,  without  saying  a  word.  He 
evidently  distrusted  her,  and  himself  still  more.  Because  he 
had  allowed  edicts  of  persecution  to  be  dictated  to  him,  he 
wished  not  to  be  dictated  to  in  regard  to  one  of  toleration. 
When  a  weak  man  takes  it  into  his  head  to  be  firm,  it  is  rarely 
that  he  does  not  happen  to  choose  the  wrong  time  for  being  so. 

"  Richelieu,"  he  resumed,  "  go  and  bring  this  man  here.  I 
v,  ish  him  to  hear  from  my  lips — " 

The  king's  tone  was  completely  changed.  Richelieu,  who 
was  just  quitting  the  apartment,  could  not  help  turning  his  head 
at  these  last  words. 

"  Yes,  from  my  mouth,"  he  continued,  "  that  there  is  neither 
peace  nor  pardon  to  be  expected  for  him  and  his  fellows. 
Ah  !  you  fancy  that  I  shall  always  be  led  1  You  fancy  that  I 
shall  be  made  to  give  a  specimen  of  a  king  undoing  what  he 
has  done,  contradicting  what  he  has  said,  and  giving  back  with 
one  hand  what  he  has  taken  away  with  the  other.  No,  by 
heaven,  no !  No  more  heretics  in  France !  One  king,  one 
people,  one  religion  !  Go,  Richelieu.  Well,  madame,  I  did 
not  request  you  to  retire." 

"  I  am  in  the  way, — sire." 

"  Remain  here.  You  have  often  enough  seen  me  weak  and 
slavish.  Are  you  afraid  to  see  me  king  ?" 

She  reseated  herself  and  was  silent.  Louis  XV.,  as  we  have 
already  remarked,  was  not  without  dignity,  but  he  must  not 
have  time  to  prepare  for  being  dignified,  for  then  he  was  no 
longer  so.  Beneath  the  air,  already  rather  more  scowling 
than  majestic,  with  which  he  strode  up  and  down  the  apartment 
while  he  awaited  the  minister,  madame  de  Pompadour  had  no 
difficulty  in  perceiving  the  approach  of  an  embarrassment  into 


190  RABAUT     AND     BUIDAINE,     OR 

which  she  had  always  seen  him  thrown  by  occasions  of  this 
kind,  and  which  was  moreover  betrayed  by  a  very  curious 
sign, — a  violent  trembling  of  the  chin.  He  evidently  repented 
of  having  sent  for  Rabaut.  He  did  not  feel  himself  strong 
enough  to  look  in  the  face  of  a  man  whom  his  edicts  condemned 
to  the  scaffold ;  he  felt  that  a  courageous  victim  always  has  a 
superiority  over  his  tyrant. 

XLI. 

RECEPTION   OF   RABAUT. HE    TAKES    HIS   DEPARTURE. 

And  it  was  not  without  strong  emotion  that  Rabaut,  preced 
ed  by  the  marshal,  bent  his  steps  towards  the  apartment  of 
the  king.  What  is  wanted  with  him  by  this  master  whose 
words  have  hitherto  reached  him  and  his  brethren,  only  as  a 
storm  of  persecution  and  death  ? 

Richelieu  had  declined  giving  him  any  particulars.  The 
king  had  appeared  so  agitated,  so  little  decided,  although  he 
strove  to  give  himself  the  appearance  of  being  so,  that  he 
equally  feared  terrifying  Rabaut  by  groundless  apprehensions, 
or  deluding  him  with  false  hopes. 

The  king  was  seated.  The  marquise,  at  some  distance,  was 
reading,  or  pretending  to  do  so. 

The  steps  of  the  duke  were  already  heard  in  the  anti-cham- 
ber. 

"  Ah !  Good  heavens,"  said  the  king,  "  he  will  speak  to  me 
of  his  petition — and  I  have  not  read  it." 

"  I  will  come  to  your  aid,"  said  the  marquise. 

"  But  you  have  not  read  it  either." 

"  Do  not  be  uneasy." 

And  thus  faded  away  this  attempt  at  majesty.     The  actor 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  191 

again  called  for  his  prompter ;  the  royal  puppet  himself  aided 
to  refasten  the  strings  by  which  he  was  to  be  made  to  move. 

They  entered. 

"Sire,"  said  Richelieu,  "here  is  the  person  who  had  the 
honor  to  present  your  Majesty  with  a  petition  last  Sunday." 

Rabaut  bowed, — first  to  the  king,  then  to  the  marquise. 

She  blushed  at  this  second  salutation.  Richelieu,  with  his 
hand  clenched,  cast  at  him  sideways  one  of  those  looks  which 
seem  to  say ;  "  are  you  mad  ?" 

The  poor  minister,  in  truth,  had  imagined  himself  saluting 
the  queen.  He  knew,  as  every  one  did,  what  were  the  morals 
of  the  king,  but  in  his  simplicity  as  a  provincial  and  a  good 
man,  he  could  never  have  gone  so  far  as  to  imagine  him  seated 
beside  his  mistress,  in  his  presence.  He  had  by  this  time  re- 
gained all  his  quiet  dignity,  and  waited  respectfully  to  be  ques- 
tioned by  the  king. 

"  It  has  doubtless  been  made  known  to  you,"  said  the  king 
at  length,  "  why  you  are  summoned  here." 

"  No,  sire." 

"  Your  Majesty  did  not  desire  me  to  do  so,"  said  Richelieu. 

"  Has  your  Majesty  condescended,"  resumed  Rabaut,  "  to 
glance  over  the  petition  which  I  had  the  honor  to  present  ?" 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  marquise,  hurriedly,  "  you  are  doubt- 
less not  aware  that  the  king  is  never  questioned." 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  it,  Madame ; — but  my  question,  sire, 
was  no  question.  In  granting  me  this  audience, — for  which  I 
had  not  dared  to  hope — your  Majesty  informs  me  that  my  pe- 
tition has  been  read." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  "  I  have  no  explanation  to  give  ; 
neither  do  I  grant  you  an  audience.  I  learned  by  accident 
that  you  were  in  my  palace.  I  wished  that  upon  your  return 
among  your  Huguenots, — for  my  clemency  will  permit  youi  re- 


192  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

turn, — you  should  put  an  end  to  the  unfounded  rumors  cf 
toleration  which  are  circulated  in  order  to  keep  up  their  courage. 
Expect  nothing.  Hope  for  nothing.  New  edicts  if  necessary, 
shall  be  added  to  those  which  you  teach  them  to  violate.  Let 
them  give  up  a  resistance  which  will  in  future  be  useless,  aim- 
less and  without  end.  Out  of  the  Church  there  is  no  peace,  no 
salvation  for  them, — neither  in  this  world,  nor  in  another." 

Rabaut  had  raised  his  head  upon  hearing  the  first  words. 
Astonishment,  and  then  indignation  and  disdain,  scarcely  re- 
strained by  a  careless  respect,  were  depicted  upon  his  counte- 
nance. The  king,  in  spite  of  the  increasing  sharpness  of  his 
words,  had  ceased  looking  him  in  the  face.  His  tone,  grave 
and  dignified  at  first,  had  become  that  of  a  man  who  makes  a 
great  effort  to  speak  loudly,  and  who  is  the  first  to  be  afraid  of 
the  noise  he  makes. 

He  paused.  Rabaut  remained  motionless.  A  moment, 
which  seemed  an  age  to  the  king,  passed  in  the  most  profound 
silence. 

"You  have  heard  the  king's  orders,  Monsieur,"  said  the 
marquise  at  length. 

"  Yes,  Madame,  and  I  still  doubt  whether  I  have  heard 
aright.  Your  Majesty — " 

"Madame  is  not  the  queen,"  said  Louis  XV.  precipitately, 
for  it  was  to  the  marquise  that  Rabaut  had  said  your  Majesty. 

It  only  needed  this  incident  to  complete  the  discomposure 
of  the  king.  Also  disconcerted,  but  only  by  the  shame  of  him 
who  had  given  cause  for  such  a  mistake,  Rabaut  turned  towards 
him  with  his  eyes  cast  down,  and  without  adding  a  single  word. 

Then,  as  the  king  did  not  dismiss  him,  Richelieu  said  : 

"  Speak ;  his  Majesty  has  perhaps  still  a  moment  to  give 
you." 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  193 

"  Sire,"  he  said  slowly,  "  only  a  word :  '  We  ought  to  obey 
God,  rather  than  men.'  "* 

He  bowed  once  more,  but  to  the  king  only,  and  quitted  the 
apartment. 

XLII. 
RABAUT'S   MEMORIAL. 

"  Ha !  ha  !"  cried  the  marshal,  "  laughing  as  loudly  as  he 
could ;"  that  is  their  way !  Say  what  you  will  to  them,  and 
they  will  throw  a  verse  of  the  Bible  in  your  teeth, — that  was 
one,  I  fancy, — and  turn  on  their  heel.  Extraordinary  beings, 
on  my  word !  For  just  as  your  Majesty  has  seen  him, — will  he 
be,  if  he  be  taken,  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows.  There  was  one 
of  them,  however,  who  grew  weak  in  the  presence  of  death. 
It  was  one  Molines,  of  Nimes,  sometimes  called  Flechier,  be- 
cause, it  seems,  he  wrote  sermons  in  the  style  of  the  late  acade- 
mician. The  eve  of  his  punishment,  this  fine  speechifier  trem- 
bled. He  offered  to  become  Catholic.  His  offer  was  accepted, 
and  great  rejoicings  were  made.  And  now  my  rascal  is  in 
Holland,  more  Protestant  than  ever  !" 

"  And  is  he  the  only  one  who  has  faltered  ?"  asked  the  king. 

"  There  was  also  a  certain  Duperron,  of  Grenoble,  in  '45. 
But  he  died  shortly  afterwards,  a  prey  to  the  most  frightful 
remorse.*  It  is  an  unexampled  obstinacy." 

*  Acts  v.  29. 

*  Molines  was  still  alive  in  1778,  but  a  prey  to  all  the  agonies  of  re- 
morse which  had  killed  Uu perron.     A  man  who  knew  him  has  left  us 
some  details  of  this  long  agony.     "  When  very  young,  I  remember  to 
have  seen  him  many  and  many  a  time  come  to  my  father,  a  pastor  in 
Amsterdam,  accusing  himself  bitterly ;  while  my  father  always  strove  to 
make  him  understand  that  through  the  infinite  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  he 
might  hope  for  salvation,  like  any  other  repentant  sinner.     He  never 


194  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAlNE,     OR 

"  Oh  yes,  Richelieu,  I  know  examples  of  it." 

"  What  are  they,  sire?" 

"  Those  martyrs  of  the  early  ages  who  are  now  upon  our 
altars  were  also  famously  obstinate." 

The  king  might  have  added,  that  the  persecutions  of  the 
early  Christians,  although  far  more  cruel,  undoubtedly,  than 
Voltaire  asserts,  were,  nevertheless,  neither  so  long  continued, 
nor  so  tenacious,  nor  so  odiously  refined,  as  those  organized  by 
Catholicism. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  famously  obstinate, — these  men  who 
preferred  to  suffer  a  thousand  deaths  rather  than  consent — to 
what  1  To  a  very  small  thing,  a  mere  nothing — to  throw  a 
few  grains  of  incense  in  the  fire,  before  the  image  of  a  god  or 
an  emperor.  And  we  admire  them,  Richelieu. — And  we  are 
right. — And  because  we  believe  those  of  the  present  time  to 
be  in  error,  are  they  very  different,  in  the  sight  of  God,  from 
those  martyrs  of  old  ?  Are  we  in  fact  much  wiser  than  the 
pagans,  because  in  place  of  attacking  a  new  God,  we  have  for 
the  last  two  hundred  years  been  bent  upon  persecuting  a  new 
method  of  adoring  the  same  God  ?" 

"  Sire,"  said  the  duke,  "  permit  me  to  decline  following  you 
in  the  changes  of  opinion  to  which  it  appears  your  Majesty  is 
about  to  submit.  I  confess,  that  if  it  were  permitted  me  to 
entertain  the  sentiments  which  your  Majesty  has  just  ex- 
pressed, and  if  I  were  king,  the  Protestants  of  my  States  would 

came  and  seated  himself  silently  among  us,  waiting  that  my  father,  for 
the  hundredth  time,  should  repeat  to  him  the  words  of  consolation, — 
without  my  feeling  a  kind  of  terror.  I  walked  around  him  in,  a  circle  as 
large  as  the  size  of  the  room  would  permit,  but  without  for  an  instant 
losing  sight  of  him.  He  was  so  absorbed  by  his  own  feelings,  that  he 
took  i.o  notice  01  anything  whatever.  Thirty  years  of  repentance  seemed 
to  him  but  a  day  and  insufficient  to  weep  over  his  crime." 

M.  CHATELAIN.     Rcliyiou*  paper  of  the  canton  de  Vaud.     1840. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  195 

soon  be  at  the  end  of  their  troubles.  One  would  think,  be- 
sides, that  your  Majesty  was  quoting  a  page  of  the  petition  in 
question,  for  everything  you  said  is  there  almost  in  the  same 
terms." 

"  You  must  show  me  this  petition." 

"  I  have  it  with  me,  sire.     Here  it  is." 

"  Well,  read  it  to  us,  marquise." 

She  obeyed. 

"'SiRE, — One  of  the  consolations  which  we  have  in  our 
sufferings,  is  the  thought  that  your  Majesty  is  ignorant  of  them, 
that  your  Majesty  is  deceived  in  regard  to  us,  and  that  we 
might  have  a  king  who  would  love  if  he  but  knew  us. 

" '  But.  sire,  what  way  have  we  of  making  ourselves  known 
to  your  Majesty  1  Among  the  numerous  petitions  or  memo- 
rials which  we  have  had  laid  at  the  foot  of  your  throne  by 
different  hands,  we  have  not  heard  that  a  single  one  has  been 
placed  before  your  Majesty." 

"  It  is  true,"  murmured  the  king. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sire,"  said  Richelieu.  "  I  have  never  come 
from  Languedoc  without  my  hands  full  of  them ;  and  as  I  had 
promised  to  deliver  them  to  your  Majesty,  I  did  so." 

The  king  .did  not  reply.  He  had  never  read  them ;  he  had 
not  even  looked  to  see  what  they  were  about. 

Madame  de  Pompadour  continued : 

" ' Will  this  meet  with  a  different  fate  1  It  will  be  pre- 
sented to  you  by  one  of  the  men  who  has  the  most  audaciously 
braved  your  laws.  If  he  dares  to  present  himself  before  you, 
it  is  because  he  is  conscious  of  having  had  all  the  respect  for 
royal  authority  which  it  can  claim  without  infringing  upon  the 
authority  of  God. 

" { It  is  long  since  there  has  been  or  can  be  any  idea  among 
us  of  claiming  either  privileges,  guarantees,  subsidies,  or  any- 


196  RABAUT     AND     BBIDAINE,     OR 

thing  which  it  was  concluded  to  grant  us  in  times  of  dis- 
turbance or  war.  We  ask  but  to  live  in  peace,  mingling 
with  the  rest  of  your  subjects,  and  supporting,  as  we  now  do, 
all  the  charges  of  the  State,  without  asking  in  return  anything 
but  the  liberty  to  serve  God  as  our  consciences  dictate. 

" '  These  are  the  terms  in  which  we  wish  that  the  question 
should  be  presented  to  the  mind,  and  particularly  to  the  heart, 
of  your  Majesty.  Everything,  for  a  century  past,  proves  to  us 
that  we  have  scarcely  any  real  and  irreconcilable  enemies  save 
in  the  ranks  of  the  clergy.  Among  all  others,  the  most  pious 
men  advocate  toleration,  some  openly,  others  in  the  depths  of 
their  hearts.  We  are  persecuted, — and  we  venture  to  hope 
that  your  Majesty  is  not  an  exception, — far  less  from  hatred — ' " 

"Just  what  you  were  saying,  Richelieu,"  interrupted  the 
king. 

"  Yes,  sire ;  but  I  thought  so  long  before  I  read  thaf ." 

"  I  did  not ;  but  they  are  right.     Go  on." 

" ' far  less  from  hatred  than  from  an  old  impulse  of 

hatred — from  a  suspicion  which  has  long  been  unfounded — 
from  principles  which  become  every  day  more  relaxed  in 
regard  to  other  matters,  and  which  are  only  kept  up  in  full 
force  against  us  in  order  that  it  may  appear  that  they  are  not 
altogether  abandoned.  We  can  understand  that  your  Majesty, 
being  attached  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Roman  Church,  would 
prefer  to  have  children  of  that  church  alone  for  your  subjects ; 
but  we  implore  you  to  consider  whether  the  severity  of  the 
means  employed  in  your  name  is  not  disproportionate  to  the 
small  degree  of  antipathy  with  which  we  really  inspire  you. 

" '  Moreover,  we  do  not  come  at  this  time  to  defend  our- 
selves before  you.  We  shall  not  remind  you  of  the  part  which 
we  bore  in  the  events  which  elevated  the  house  of  Bouibon  to 
the  throne,  nor  the  unshaken  fidelity  which  we  have  always 


THE     COURT     OP    LOUIS     XV.  197 

manifested  towards  it,  nor  the  distinguished  men  we  have  had 
the  honor  of  giving  to  France.  We  shall  commence  no  dis- 
cussion of  the  motives  which  induce  us  to  hold  fast  the  religion 
of  our  fathers,  nor  of  the  right  which  is  assumed  to  be  in  pos- 
session of  those  who  would  force  us  to  abandon  it.  We  wish 
only  to  lay  before  you  a  statement,  brief  as  possible,  of  the 
system  of  laws  which  oppresses  us.  We  are  convinced  that 
your  Majesty  has  never  looked  upon  it  as  a  whole,  and  that 
you  would  have  turned  away  with  horror  from  a  system  so 
cruelly  monstrous. 

"  '  In  the  first  place,  if  we  examine  its  foundations  we  see  that 
for  forty-five  years  they  have  reposed  upon  a  fact  which  is 
manifestly  no  fact.  Louis  XIV.,  a  few  months  before  his 
death,  thought  himself  authorized  to  affirm  that  there  were  no 
longer  any  Protestants  in  France.  "  Their  presence  in  our 
States"  he  says  in  a  last  manifesto  against  them, "  is  a  sufficient 
proof  that  they  have  embraced  the  Catholic  religion,  without 
which,  they  would  not  have  been  allowed  to  remain"  These 
words,  sire,  were  signed,  as  is  long  since  universally  admitted, 
without  having  been  read  by  your  ancestor. 

" '  Whatever  might  be  his  antipathy  against  us,  however  de- 
ceived he  might  have  been  as  to  the  results  of  his  efforts,  he 
had  too  much  sense  to  believe  we  were  all  converted,*  and 
above  all,  to  consider  as  a  proof  of  this,  the  single  fact  that  we 
remained  in  France ;  when  we  were  forbidden  to  attempt 
quitting  France,  under  penalty  of  the  galleys. 

*  In  1698,  thirteen  years  after  the  conversion,  in  a  body,  of  the  Pro- 
testants, with  which  Louis  XIV.  had  been  Deluded,  Monsieur  be  Baville, 
the  intendant,  writes :  "  There  are  districts  of  morn  than  twenty  parishes, 
in  which  the  cure  is  the  most  unhappy  and  useless  of  the  inhabitants,  and 
where,  in  spite  of  all  the  pains  which  have  been  taken,  not  a  single  con- 
version could  be  made,  nor  a  single  Catholic  from  without  established,"1 
Quoted  by  Monsieur  Breteuil,  in  1786,  in  his  memorial  to  Louis  XVL 


198  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

" '  However  this  may  be,  this  has  been,  ever  since  that  time, 
the  starting  point  of  all  the  measures  taken  against  us.  In 
order  better  to  harden  themselves  to  the  work  of  mangling  us, 
our  tormentors  had  pronounced  us  dead. 

" '  We  were  accordingly  no  longer  called  Protestants,  or 
Huguenots,  or  heretics,  but  new  converts.  From  that  period, 
as  we  were  supposed  to  be  Catholics,  all  decrees  in  regard  to 
Protestantism  placed  us  under  terrible  penalties,  already  de- 
creed against  whosoever,  after  having  abjured,  should  again 
become  a  Protestant.  Until  that  time,  so  long  as  there  had 
been  no  formal  abjuration,  we  were  at  least  permitted  to  die  in 
peace.  Since  the  edict  of  1715,  as  we  were  all  asserted  to  have 
abjured,  no  one  of  us  on  his  death-bed  can  refuse  the  sacra- 
ments without  being  looked  upon  as  a  relapsed  heretic.  If  he 
should  be  restored  to  health  he  must  go  to  the  galleys ;  if  he 
die,  the  action  is  carried  on  against  his  memory.  His  goods 
are  confiscated  and  his  body  dragged  upon  a  hurdle.  Woe  be 
to  him  also,  who  may  have  counselled  the  dying  man  to  follow 
the  dictates  of  his  conscience  !  If  it  be  a  man,  he  is  condemned 
to  the  galleys ;  if  a  woman,  to  solitary  confinement  for  life. 
In  your  armies  every  one  is  at  liberty  to  be  an  infidel ;  but  if 
a  soldier  should  die,  as  it  happened  at  Uzes,  declaring  himself 
to  be  a  Protestant,  it  is  immediately  decreed  "  that  there  will 
be  an  action  against  his  memory."  And  this  is  not,  as  might 
be  supposed,  the  decision  of  some  obscure  provincial  tribunal, 
or  of  some  fiery  intendant.  It  is  a  decree  of  your  council  of 
State. 

" '  False  in  its  statements,  cruel  in  its  consequences,  the  alle- 
gation of  the  last  edict  of  Louis  XIV.  did  not  even  agree  with 
its  predecessors.  The  parliament  of  Paris  remarked  this,  and 
the  registering  of  the  edict  was  delayed  a  mouth.  "  The  king," 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  190 

said  the  attorney-general,*  "  never  exactly  commanded  the  Hu- 
guenots to  become  Catholics  ;  it  cannot  therefore  be  said  that 
this  change  is  to  be  taken  for  granted.  All  the  rigor  of  the 
law  falls  upon  the  relapsed  converts,  namely  upon  those  who 
after  having  abjured,  have  fallen  back  into  their  errors;  but  it 
is  first  necessary  to  prove  that  they  have  ever  quitted  these 
errors,  for  in  order  to  fall  back  one  must  have  first  arisen.  It 
will  always  be  difficult  to  conceive  how  a  man  who  does  not 
appear  ever  to  have  been  converted,  could  have  fallen  back  into 
heresy,  and  how  he  could  have  been  condemned  as  if  the  fact 
were  proved." 

" '  Thus  were  trodden  under  foot,  in  this  too  famous  edict, 
together  with  the  feelings  of  human  nature,  the  first  rules  of 
written  law,  and  even  those  of  common  sense. 

"  '  These  representations,  however,  either  never  reached  the 
monarch,  or  were  unable  to  modify  the  all  powerful-influence 
which  had  induced  him  to  sign  the  edict.  The  plan  of  Father 
Letellier  was  to  remain  in  full  force.  The  edict  was  registered. 
Those  who  had  pointed  out  its  errors,  were  the  first  to  put  it 
into  execution. 

" '  Such,  sire,  was  the  heritage  left  you  by  your  ancestor. 

"  '  In  your  edict  of  1724,  which  your  extreme  youth  at  that 
time,  happily  allows  us  to  consider  as  not  your  work,f  you  de- 

*  D'Aguesseau. 

•  f  It  was  that  of  Lavergne  de  Tressan,  archbishop  of  Rouen,  aided,  (for 
the  fact  is  only  too  well  ascertained,)  by  the  same  d'Aguesseau  then  be- 
come chancellor.  So  hard  does  the  Roman  Church  make  the  hearts  of 
her  champions,  even  of  the  wisest  and  most  virtuous  !  It  may  be  seen  in 
particular,  in  his  Discourse  upon  the  life  of  his  Father,  with  what  com- 
placeucy  he  expatiates  upon  the  severities  of  which  the  latter  when  in 
tendai:t  of  Languedoc.  hud  been  the  instrument.  He  censures  the  dragon- 
odes  ;  ';ut  with  this  exccp  ion,  looks  upon  all  as  legitimate,  great  and 
fine. 


200  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

clared  it  to  be  y  ur  wish  that  all  the  laws  already  promulgated 
against  us,  should  be  maintained  in  full  force.  You  added  to 
them  at  the  same  time  numerous  particulars  tending  to  co-or- 
dinate them.  It  was  you,  sire,  who  definitely  established  the 
cruel  code  which  harasses  us  in  our  belief,  in  our  temporal  in- 
terests, in  our  family  affections,  in  the  minutest  details  of  all 
which,  in  this  world,  is  precious  or  sacred  to  us. 

"  '  In  our  belief,  we  say  : 

"'  You  have  been  doubtless  led  to  believe,  as  was  the  late  king, 
that  it  was  not  exactly  intended  to  do  violence  to  our  con- 
sciences ;  that  it  was  only  purposed  to  bring  us  by  these  hard- 
ships to  reflect  upon  our  obstinacy,  and  to  re-enter,  but  of  our 
own  good  will,  into  the  bosom  of  the  Church. 

" '  And  in  fact,  since  the  persecutions  prior  to  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  there  has  been  no  punishment  individually  levelled 
against  the  heretic  as  a  heretic  Accordingly,  when  we  are 
punished,  it  is  not  as  Protestants  professing  an  erroneous  belief, 
but  as  disobeying  your  ordinances. 

" '  It  is  accordingly,  not  the  inquisition  •  but  in  reality  what  is 
wanting  to  make  it  the  same  ?  Is  it  not  exactly  equivalent  to 
it,  if  we  are  punished,  not  as  heretics,  but  as  violators  of  laws 
made  against  us  because  we  are  so  ?  We  are  not  commanded 
to  believe;  we  are  only  commanded  to  profess  belief.  But 
sire,  in  all  matters  in  which  conscience  is  concerned,  it  is  doing 
violence  to  conscience  itself  to  force  a  mere  external  profession. 
Unless  you  tell  a  dying  man  that  he  is  at  liberty  to  lie  to  God 
and  men,  you  cannot  order  him  to  appear  to  be  a  Catholic 
without  ordering  him  from  that  very  fact  to  be  one.  Is  this  an 
order  which  your  Majesty  feels  it  in  your  power  to  give  1  Or, 
if  we  may  be  allowed  to  reverse  the  question,  do  you  feel  that 
it  would  be  possible  for  you,  o  your  death-bed,  to  obey  any 
one  who  required  you  to  profess  another  faith  not  your  own  ? 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  201 

And  if  you  knew,  moreover,  that  you  could  not  disobey  with- 
out condemning  yourself  to  the  galleys,  and  your  children  to 
beggary,  would  not  this  pretended  respect  for  your  faith  seem 
to  you  a  cruel  irony1? 

"  '  We  are  accordingly  reduced  to  appeal,  as  to  a  protecting 
law,  to  the  very  edict  in  which  your  ancestor  revoked  that  of 
Henry  IV.  The  last  clause,  in  fact,  prohibits  our  being  mo- 
lested. Provided  that  we  no  longer  had  pastors,  nor  churches, 
nor  public  worship,  we  were  permitted  to  remain  what  we 
were,  enjoying  our  own  property,  and  following  the  course  of 
our  own  business,  "  without  being  hindered  or  troubled  on  ac- 
count of  religion.'''1 

"  'Thus  spoke  Louis  XIV.  in  October,  1685;  and  less  than  a 
month  after,  on  the  fifth  of  November,  we  were  already  under 
another  law.  "  His  Majesty,"  wrote  Monsieur  Louvois  to  the 
commandants  of  the  province,  "  desires  that  those  who  will  not 
embrace  his  religion,  shall  be  subjected  to  the  extreme  rigors 
of  the  law ;  and  those  who  may  wish  to  have  the  foolish  glory 
of  being  the  last  to  embrace  it,  ought  to  be  driven  to  the  last 
extremity." 

" '  Shall  we  relate  how  these  conversions  in  a  body  were 
obtained,  upon  which  was  soon  to  be  founded  the  law  which 
commands  us  all  to  be  looked  upon  as  converts  or  relapsed  ? 

" '  So  many  Catholics  have  censured  the  dragonades,  that  we 
need  not  draw  attention  to  the  strangeness  or  odiousness  of 
such  a  proceeding. 

" '  Are  they  at  least  discontinued  1  It  is  generally  believed 
that  they  are,  and  yet,  sire,  this  is  not  the  case.  Every  year, 
or  nearly  every  year,  they  have  been  tried  in  some  portion  of 
our  unhappy  provinces.  Quite  recently,  in  1758,  they  were 
renewed  in  all  the  southern  ones  with  terrible  vigor.  It  is 
only  by  means  of  the  compulsory  quartering  of  dragoons  and 


202  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

horsemen  of  the  patrol  that  the  consent  of  so  many  of  our 
people  has  lately  been  forced  from  them,  to  have  their  children 
baptized  in  your  Church. 

"  '  But  it  is  most  especially  our  assemblies  which  have  been 
the  objects  of  the  most  constant,  the  severest  persecution. 

" '  Here,  we  feel  that  we  are  not  so  clearly  upon  the  in- 
violable grounds  of  conscience  and  belief.  God  is  everywhere. ; 
everywhere  He  may  be  adored  and  served.  Your  Majesty 
has  a  right  to  desire  that  numerous  assemblies  should  not  take 
place  in  your  States  without  your  authorization. 

" '  Ah  !  sire,  our  answer  is  in  what  we  have  suffered,  and 
still  suffer  every  day  in  disobeying  you  upon  this  point. 
The  necessity  of  sympathizing  and  feeling  in  common,— a  ne- 
cessity which  is  so  universal  and  so  pressing  even  in  common 
life — is  so  strengthened  by  persecution,  that  neither  threats, 
nor  tortures,  nor  anything  in  the  world  can  repress  it.  We 
had  more  than  five  hundred  places  of  worship  before  our  days 
of  suffering.  These  have  all  been  destroyed.  We  pass  by 
the  venerated  spots  where  our  fathers  worshipped,  without 
even  daring  to  cast  a  glance  of  regret  towards  them ;  we  go  to 
seek  at  a  distance,  beneath  the  vault  of  heaven,  that  which  we 
found  in  our  happier  days  within  the  humble  walls  of  our 
churches.  This  is  our  crime,  sire ;  this  is  what  has  sent  so 
many  of  our  brethren  to  the  galleys,  so  many  of  our  pastors 
to  death ;  this  is  what  is  to  be  for  an  indefinite  length  of  time 
the  cause  of  the  same  severities,  for  we  feel  that  it  is  not  in 
our  power  to  cease  incurring  them.  As  the  storm  howls  more 
loudly,  we  feel  more  deeply  the  need  of  clinging  closely  to 
one  another ;  wherever  it  shall  not  be  found  utterly  impossible 
for  us  to  meet  together,  there  shall  we  meet.  This  is  not  a 
bravado,  sire ;  God  forbid  !  None  of  your  subjects  desire 
more  earnestly  than  we  do,  not  to  be  obliged  to  disobey  you. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  203 

We  only  unveil  our  hearts  to  you  now ;  we  supplicate  you  to 
consider  how  deeply  rooted  are  those  principles  which  you  en 
deavor  to  tear  from  them.  Ah !  if  the  feelings  of  love  which 
we  bear  for  our  king  and  for  our  France  were  not  also  deeply 
rooted,  think  you  it  would  be  possible  for  us  still  to  see  in 
you  a  father,  and  in  this  land  our  country "? 

"  '  Laws  such  as  these  are  not  alone  cruel ;  they  have  besides 
the  disadvantage  of  only  being  applied  as  it  were,  at  a  ven- 
ture. If  some  of  our  number  are  punished  for  having  been 
present  at  one  of  our  reunions,  a  thousand,  two  thousand,  ten 
thousand  who  have  shared  their  crime,  do  not  share  their  pun- 
ishment. Is  it  proper,  is  it  wise,— even  setting  aside  all  con- 
siderations of  justice, — that  there  should  be  in  a  State,  laws 
which  strike  blindly,  never  reaching  more  than  two  guilty  in- 
dividuals in  a  hundred  ?  What  license  is  given  to  the  arbitrary 
will  of  the  men  charged  with  their  execution  !  Justice  itself 
in  such  a  shape  would  become  injustice. 

" '  Has  the  attempt  at  least  been  made  practically  to  amend 
the  defects  inherent  to  such  a  state  of  things  1 

" '  On  the  contrary. — According  as  the  laws  became  more 
severe,  you  suppressed  the  protecting  delays  of  ordinary  jus- 
tice. When  Monsieur  de  Baville,  in  1698,  was  seen  in  one 
morning,  to  condemn  as  many  as  seventy-five  Protestants  to 
the  galleys,  it  might  have  been  imagined  that  we  had  endured 
the  utmost  degree  of  oppression.  This  was  a  mistake,  sire ; 
we  are  now  still  lower.  At  this  time  the  law  reached  those 
only  who  had  been  arrested  in  the  act  of  attending  an  assem- 
bly ;  but  since  1745  the  same  penalty  has  been  extended  to  all 
those,  says  the  law,  who  are  known  to  have  been  present  at  these 
meetings.  Further  still :  According  to  the  old  law,  the  in- 
tendant  could  judge  only  in  the  presence  of  seven  doctors  of 
the  law.  You  have  deprived  us  of  this  last  guarantee.  Since 


201  KAIIAUT     AND     IJIlIDAIXE,     OR 

this  same  edict  of  1745,  the  intendant  presides  alone,  and  gives 
the  final  judgment  himself,  without  appeal.  We  must  go  back 
to  the  periods  of  the  most  bitter  persecutions  by  the  pagans, 
in  order  to  find  examples  of  such  absolute  power  committed 
to  the  hands  of  a  simple  governor. 

" '  Masters  of  our  life  and  liberty,  the  intendants  are  also 
masters  of  our  property. 

" '  Their  arbitrary  power  is  in  this  matter  exercised  without 
restraint.  In  the  bosom  of  France,  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
there  are  still  people  liable  to  taxation  and  statute  labor,  at 
pleasure.  These  unhappy  wretches,  for  whom  the  rights  of 
property  are  in  fact  annihilated, — are  ourselves. 

"  'And  there  are  none  of  us  who  are  not  constantly  suffering 
under  one  or  another  of  the  pecuniary  penalties  specified  in 
your  edicts.  It  would  require  too  much  time  to  mention  these 
in  detail.  Besides,  all  former  stipulations  are  now  combined 
in  one,  which,  if  it  were  executed  literally,  would  be  equiva- 
lent to  the  entire  confiscation  of  all  that  we  possess  in  the 
kingdom.  The  intendant  has  had  conferred  upon  him  the 
right  of  arbitrary  taxation,  without  appeal,  of  all  the  Protest- 
tants  of  a  district  in  which  an  assembly  has  been  held,  includ- 
ing even  those  who  can  prove  that  they  were  not  present.  In 
case  of  the  capture  of  a  minister,  a  fine  is  fixed,  each  head  of  a 
family  is  taxed  at  three  thousand  livres,  which  is  more  than 
the  whole  possession  of  a  great  number  of  us,  who  inhabit  our 
barren  mountains. 

" '  The  intendants  generally  recoil  from  the  odious  task  of  thus 
at  a  single  blow  redeeming  the  inhabitants  of  a  village,  a  dis- 
trict, an  entire  province  to  beggary  ;  but  they  cannot  always 
avoid  it.  Accordingly,  every  year  some  of  our  districts  are 
burdened  with  enormous  fines  ;  every  day,  any  one  of  them  is 
liable  to  have  the  same  burden  laid  upon  it.  Many  a  one  is 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  205 

well  off  in  the  morning,  who  in  the  evening  may  perchance  no 
longer  possess  food  or  shelter. 

"  '  This  money,  scarcely  out  of  our  hands,  serves  to  pay  for 
new  means  of  oppression.  It  goes  to  the  convents  to  answer 
for  the  support  of  our  wives,  our  daughters,  who  are  dead  to 
us ;  it  goes  to  the  prisons  to  reward  our  gaolers  ;  to  the  garri- 
sons to  stimulate  the  zeal  of  the  soldiers;  it  is  offered,  in  short, 
to  who  ever  shall  give  notice  of  an  assembly,  facilitate  the  cap- 
ture of  a  minister,  or  inform  either  publicly  or  secretly,  in  re- 
gard to  some  infraction  of  the  edicts.  Informers  and  traitors 
are  openly  encouraged,  openly  paid.  The  first  and  simplest 
notions  of  honor,  honesty  and  even  pity  are  asserted  to  be 
criminal.  There  is  not  only  money  for  those  who  will  turn 
informers ;  but  there  are  also  punishments  for  such  as  refuse 
to  do  so.  If  a  fugitive  minister  comes  and  knocks  at  our  door, 
we  must  hasten  to  give  him  up  to  the  executioner  or  we  our- 
selves must  go  to  the  galleys.  Ah  !  it  is  a  great  consolation, 
sire,  to  be  able  to  feel  upon  listening  to  the  sentence,  that  these 
men  who  condemn  us  according  to  an  edict,  for  having  done 
thus,  would  have  condemned  us  in  their  hearts  if  we  had  done 
otherwise.  But  what  kind  of  a  law  is  it  which  forces  judges  to 
punish  that  which  in  all  other  things  they  would  look  upon  as 
honorable  and  natural  ?  In  the  sight  of  the  immutable  laws 
of  reason  and  humanity,  what  difference  is  to  be  perceived  be- 
tween one  of  the  early  Christians  hiding  a  fellow-believer  from 
the  rage  of  the  proconsuls,  and  a  Protestant  of  our  day  con- 
cealing his  pastor  from  the  search  of  an  intendant  1 

"  '  There  are  unhappily  many  other  points,  sire,  in  which  your 
edicts  agree  no  better  with  these  eternal  laws,  of  which  you 
would  be  the  first,  in  all  other  matters,  to  condemn  the  viola- 
tion. 

u '  What  shall  we  say  of  the  blows  aimed  at  paternal  author!- 


206  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

ty  and  all  family  ties  as  well  as  affections.  Our  children  do 
not  belong  to  us.  Not  only  must  we  send  them,  under  penalty 
of  enormous  fines,  to  Catholic  schools,*  but  \ve  are  forbidden 
to  make  any  resistance  to  the  efforts  made  for  their  conversion. 
After  the  age  of  seven  they  are  allowed  to  abjure,  and  to  this 
also  we  are  forbidden  to  offer  any  opposition.  The  abjuration, 
even  when  unfairly  obtained,  is  irrevocable.  Frequently  (his 
is  not  waited  for.  As  soon  as  it-  is  asserted  that  an  inclination 
has  been  perceived  in  any  child  to  become  Catholic,  it  is  law- 
ful to  take  him  from  his  parents,  in  order,  as  it  is  said,  to  pre- 
vent these  precious  germs  from  being  destroyed.  In  this  way, 
sire,  none  of  our  children  are  safe,  no  father  is  sure  of  embrac- 
ing those  in  the  evening,  upon  whom  in  the  morning  he  has 
bestowed  his  benediction.  And  there  is  nothing  fixed,  nothing 
regulated  in  the  exercise  of  this  frightful  power.  Bishops, 
governors,  intendants,  delegates  or  under  delegates,  simple 
cures,  private  individuals, — it  requires  the  merest  pretext  in 
order  to  invest  any  or  every  one  of  these  with  it.  The  magis- 
trates never  refuse  to  sanction  anything  which  has  been  inspired 
by  so  noble  a  zeal !' " 

XLIII. 

SOFTENING    EFFECTS. 

"  It  is  infamous  !"  cried  the  king. 

Madame  de  Pompadour  had  followed  in  his  face  the  effects 

*  In  the  midst  of  all  the  zealous  interest  for  the  poor  peasants  lost 
among  their  mountains,  it  should  be  known  what  was  taking  place  in 
Paris.  "  The  holy  archbishop  De  Beaumont  suddenly  discovered  not  only 
that  the  fish  women  ( fcmmes  de  la  Halle),  never  sent  their  children  to  be 
catechised,  but  that  they  themselves  had  not  the  least  notion  of  religion 
or  morals,  because  their  mothers  and  grandmothers  had  never  been  in- 
structed in  Miese."  MADAME  DE  GENUS.  Dictiontiaire  dcs  Maturs. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  207 

of  what  she  read.  In  order  to  remain  neutral,  she  had  begun 
by  reading  as  calmly  as  possible.  Gradually,  whether  she  had 
allowed  herself  to  be  carried  away,  or  whether,  as  was  more 
probable,  she  had  seen  that  there  was  no  risk  in  appearing 
moved,  she  had  lent  to  the  bitter  sufferings  of  the  oppressed 
Huguenots,  all  the  charm  and  all  the  art  with  which  she  knew 
so  well  how  to  improve  the  paltry  products  of  the  muse  of  that 
day.  The  marshal,  on  his  part,  no  longer  sought  to  conceal  his 
sympathy.  A  simple  description  of  sufferings  endured,  would 
have  made  less  impression  on  him ;  but  this  tissue  of  iniquities 
revolted  his  ideas  as  a  gentleman,  his  chivalry  as  an  old  soldier. 
He  would  have  better  understood  the  extermination  of  the 
Protestants,  than  these  infernal  machinations  of  a  tyranny  at 
once  mean  and  atrocious. 

She  went  on. 

"  ' Behold,  sire,  the  deplorable  state  to  which  you  have 

reduced  so  large  a  number  of  your  most  faithful  subjects. 
You  have  set  aside,  in  your  laws  against  them,  all  those  princi- 
ples, which  elsewhere  you  hold  yourself  bound  to  proclaim ; 
you  have  torn  from  your  heart  those  feelings  which  you  would 
blush  to  forget  towards  your  greatest  enemies.  Yes,  we  repeat 
it,  and  your  Majesty  will  not  contradict  us ;  you  would  blush 
to  labor  at  the  enfeebling  of  a  nation  with  which  you  were  at 
enmity,  by  encouraging  treason  in  the  midst  of  it,  by  breaking 
family  ties,  in  torturing,  by  means  of  all  that  they  hold  most 
dear,  those  of  it  who  refused  to  concur  in  your  plans.  In  the 
midst  of  real  wars,  if  a  man  had  proposed  to  you  to  publish 
against  England  or  Prussia  some  manifesto  analogous  to  your 
edicts  against  us, — you  would  have  ejected  him  from  your 
council  as  an  enemy  of  your  glory,  and  you  would  have  felt 
yourself  obliged  to  protest,  in  the  hearing  of  all  Europe,  against 


208  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

the  insult  of  which  this  man  would  have  been  guilty  in  suppos- 
ing you  capable  of  listening  to  his  proposal. 

" '  So  cruel  and  unrighteous  a  set  of  laws  can  accordingly 
have  been  conceived  only  by  men  who  are  accustomed  to  look 
upon  all  as  good  which  leads  to  the  desired  end.  We  know 
not,  sire,  we  wish  not  to  know,  to  whom  we  owe  your  severi- 
ties We  only  ask,  in  conclusion,  one  thing.  Let  your  Majes- 
ty take  at  random,  from  one  of  your  edicts,  or  from  one  of 
those  of  the  late  king,  any  one  of  the  stipulations  to  which  we 
have  called  his  atten  ;ion.  Let  your  Majesty  present  it,  in  the 
form  of  a  general  question,  to  these  same  men  who  approved 
of  it  in  its  application  to  us ;  and  if  there  is  a  single  one  who 
says ;  This  is  good ;  this  is  wise  and  just, — we  will  then  no 
longer  complain,  we  will  bow  our  heads  forever  beneath  any 
yoke  which  it  may  be  thought  proper  to  impose  upon  us. 

"  '  But  no,  sire ;  leave  all  these  hard-hearted  counsellors  to 
their  pitiless  prejudices.  In  this  matter  consult  only  yourself, 
your  reason,  your  heart.  Consider  whether  it  is  not  time  that 
our  sufferings  should  end,  that  our  chains  should  fall,  that  we 
should  recover  our  rights,  if  not  as  citizens,  at  least  as  men ; 
consider  whether  it  is  really  your  conscience  which  leads  you 
to  offer  us  as  a  holocaust  to  the  ill-will  of  a  power  whose  am- 
bition you  fear.  Your  ancestor  was  never  more  terrible 
towards  us,  than  when  he  was  on  the  worst  terms  with  the 
court  of  Rome ;  all  that  he  refused  the  pope  in  homage  and 
submission,  he  repaid  in  Huguenot  blood.  Is  not  this,  in  more 
than  one  respect,  the  secret  of  our  misfortunes  ?  And  if  there 
are  some  who  hate  us  because  they  are  very  Catholic,  are  there 
not  very  many  also  who  constitute  themselves  our  persecutors 
because  they  are  so  little  Catholic1?  Their  zeal  may  serve  as 
an  excuse  to  the  first ;  but  what  a  fearful  account  will  the  latter 
be  obliged  to  render  to  their  God  !' " 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  209 

XLIV. 

AN     EDICT. 

"Is  that  all T  asked  the  king. 

"  It  is  all,  sire  " 

"  Well,  marquise,  write : 

"  To  Monsieur  the  duke  de  Choiseul. 

"  I  am  of  opinion,  cousin,  that  there  is  somewhat,  and 
indeed  very  much  to  be  modified  in  the  manner  in  which  the 
members  of  the  religion  called  reformed,  are  treated  in  my 
kingdom.  A  memorial  has  been  handed  me,  which  shows  me 
that  we  have  gone  too  far,  and  that  my  real  intentions  have 
been  exaggerated,  in  the  edicts  which  I  have  been  caused  to 
put  forth.  I  see  further,  that  with  all  the  measures  which  I 
have  been  induced  to  take,  and  all  those  which  might  still  be 
taken,  two  or  three  centuries  of  severities  would  perhaps  not 
be  sufficient  to  attain  the  end  which  I  had  proposed  to  myself. 

"  My  intention  is,  accordingly,  that  these  should  be  given 
up.  Draw  me  up  the  plan  of  an  edict,  in  which — " 

The  king  stopped. 

"  An  edict ! — That  is  very  difficult.  What  will  the  clergy 
say  ?  What  will  the  pope  say  1  An  edict ! — No. — We  will 
send  secretly  to  the  intendants,  the  order  to  drop  the  present 
ones.  But — suddenly  1 — What  will  be  said  ?" 

Such  was  Louis  XV.  He  recoiled  before  the  first  difficul- 
ties. 

"  What  will  be  said  1"  he  resumed.  "  They  might  cry  upon 
this  occasion,  Dedil  of  the  king.*  No. — No  edict — no  orders. 
I  will  leave  it  for  my  successor." 

*  This  was  a  witticism  of  Monsieur  d«  Cury,  a  wit  by  profession,  and 


210  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINK,     OR 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Richelieu,  "  the  Protestants  must  have 
patience.  So  much  the  more  so  because  Monseigneur  the 
dauphin  is  not  very  friendly  to  them." 

"  Suppose  your  Majesty  should  speak  to  the  duke  de  Choi- 
seul  ?"  said  the  marquise,  laughing.  "  He  has  drawn  up  more 
edicts  than  your  Majesty.  Perhaps  he  could  arrange  it  to 
everybody's  satisfaction." 

"  The  bigots  included  ?" 

"  No — but  all  reasonable  people." 

"  That  is  to  say  scarcely  any  one." 

"  At  least  try." 

"  Let  us  try,  then.     Send  for  the  duke." 

"  This  evening  1" 

"  This  evening.  I  wish  to  put  an  end  to  the  thing.  To 
think  that  I  can  by  a  word,  restore  peace  and  happiness  to 
thousands  of  men,  can  deserve  their  blessings  ! — " 

"  Yes. — It  is  a  noble  thing  to  be  a  king,  sire." 

"  You  think  so  ?"  said  Louis  XV.  bitterly.  "  A  fine  thing, 
indeed,  on  my  honor,  to  discover  at  the  end  of  forty -five  years, 
that  one  has  been  the  tyrant  and  butcher  of  a  great  part  of  his 
subjects !  Shall  we  sup,  marquise  ?" 

"  And  the  duke  de  Choiseul,  sire  ?  I  have  just  ordered  that 
he  should  be  sent  for." 

"  So  much  the  worse.  What  was  I  thinking  of?  Do  you 
know  that  I  have  already  spent  two  hours  with  him  and  the 
comptroller  general  ?" 

•well  known  to  the  king.  At  the  time  of  the  disputes  with  the  Parlia- 
ment, when  they  were  selling  in  the  streets  an  edict  in  which  the  king 
had  begun  to  retract,  he  said  to  one  of  the  criers  that  it  was  not  an  Edit, 
(edict,)  but  a  Dedit,  and  the  man,  who  did  not  know  how  to  read,  went 
about  crying  Dedit,  until  he  was  stopped  by  the  police. 

(Edit,  in  French,  signifies  something  said,  dedit,  signifies  something  un- 
said. Tr.) 


THE     COORT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  211 

She  knew  it,  for  Choiseul  never  omitted  seeing  her  before 
and  after  his  interview  with  the  king.  But  the  king  must  not 
know  that  they  so  constantly  played  into  each  other's  hands. 
They  had  the  art  of  agreeing  without  seeming  to  have  precon- 
certed it,  and  thus  the  king,  whom  distrust  alone  could  lead  to 
have  an  opinion  of  his  own,  ran  no  risk  of  adopting  any  other 
than  their's. 

"  Has  your  Majesty  worked  with  him  during  the  day  ?"  she 
asked. 

"  Two  hours,  I  tell  you  ;  and  such  work !  Adding  up  mil 
lions." 

"  And  your  Majesty  objects  to  that  V  said  Richelieu. 

"  Millions  of  deficit,  Marshal.  Every  year  worse.  When 
Choiseul  showed  me  this  gulf,  I  thought  I  should  become  dizzy. 
We  receive  one  hundred  and  seventy-two  millions  ;  we  spend 
three  hundred  and  fifty-seven. — Count  up." 

"  But  there  must  be  some  mistake,  sire." 

"  Not  at  all.  The  total  of  our  receipts  is  three  hundred  and 
twelve  millions.  Of  this,  one  hundred  and  forty  millions  are 
already  pledged.  Deficit,  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  mil- 
lions. It  is  plain  enough.  Five  hundred  thousand  livres  a 
day,  if  you  like  it  better." 

"  What  is  that  for  France  7" 

"  Oh,  ho  !  you  also  belong  to  the  number  ?" 

"  Of  what,  sire." 

"  Of  those  designated  by  the  court  of  accounts  in  its  last  re- 
monstrance. There, — read.  Here  on  this  page." 

Richelieu  took  the  paper  and  read  : 

" '  Your  Majesty  cannot  too  much  distrust  those  who,  in 
order  to  quench  the  insatiable  thirst  which  they  have  for  your 
gifts—' 

"  I  have  never  asked  for  anything,"  said  the  duke,  pausing. 


212  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

«  No — you  have  only  taken — without  asking" 

"Sire!" 

"  Come !  we  will  not  grow  angry  !  It  was  in  Germany  that 
you  took,  I  know, — not  in  France.  Have  I  ever  seemed  to 
owe  you  a  grudge  for  it  ?  But  finish  the  sentence.  It  was  the 
end  of  it  I  thought  of,  when  I  gave  it  to  you  to  read." 

"  ' magnify  to  you  the  wealth  of  the  nation.  The  zeal  of 

your  subjects  is  inexhaustible,  but  their  ability  does  not  equal 
their  zeal.' 

"  There  they  are,  the  insolent  scoundrels,"  said  the  duke,  as 
he  returned  the  paper  to  the  king.  "  With  what  do  they  want 
us  to  carry  on  the  war  ?" 

"  They  would  prefer  that  we  should  not  carry  it  on  at  all. 
But  as  we  cannot  give  them  this  satisfaction  just  at  present,  we 
have  contrived  another.  I  have  just  ordered  that  my  plate 
should  be  carried  to  the  mint." 

"  That  is  great  and  magnanimous,  sire." 

"  Yes  ? — Then  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  be  imitated.  You, 
and  all  the  court  with  you,  will  receive  to-morrow  an  invita- 
tion to  do  the  same.  Well,  what  is  the  matter  1  One  would 
think  that  you  did  not  approve  of  the  arrangement." 

And  in  fact  this  blow  had  somewhat  stunned  him.  For  the 
plate  of  the  noble  duke  was  indeed  very  magnificent.  But  he 
soon  recovered. 

"To  the  mint,  then!"  he  exclaimed. 

And  his  decision  was  made.  The  next  morning  there  was 
1.0  longer  a  dish  in  his  possession.  As  we  have  said,  all  that 
he  took  or  received  with  one  hand,  he  was  always  ready  to 
give  back  with  the  other  for  the  k'ng  and  for  la  France. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  213 

XLV. 

*      BANKRUPT     GOVERNMENT. 

But  it  was  very  curious  to  contemplate  this  government, 
which  regularly  every  year  devoured  half  the  income  of  the 
next.  Curious,  we  say,  for  there  were  still  very  few  persons 
who  looked  upon  it  as  terrifying.  The  deficit  had  become  the 
normal  state  of  things.  People  had  grown  accustomed  to  it 
in  time  of  peace,  and  it  was  found  natural  that  it  should  he 
doubled  during  the  war. 

Not  that  the  parliaments  in  their  remonstrances,  and  the 
politieal  economists  in  their  books,  neglected  to  attack  such  a 
state  of  things  ;  the  government  had  not  yet  thought  of  doing 
as  it  concluded  to  do  four  years  afterwards  at  the  petition  of 
the  comptroller  general  Laverdy,  namely,  to  prohibit  all  pub- 
lications in  regard  to  the  finances.  But  it  was  with  their 
warnings  as  with  those  of  the  pulpit ;  many  did  not  listen  to 
them ;  and  many  although  they  listened  could  not  become 
alarmed.  The  longer  the  car  had  been  rolling  on  towards  the 
abyss,  the  more  they  seemed  to  imagine  that  it  would  roll  on 
for  an  indefinite  length  of  time.  The  king,  in  spite  of  his  list- 
lessness,  was  at  times  one  of  those  who  was  the  most  con- 
cerned at  it.  "  What  would  a  merchant  do,"  he  once  asked 
the  abbe  Terray,  "  if  he  should  see  his  affairs  in  the  same  state 
as  mine  ?"  "  He  would  go  and  drown  himself,  sire,"  said  the 
abbe. 

And  accordingly  the  gloomy  king  drowned  himself  after  his 
own  fashion.  He  blunted  as  well  as  he  could,  by  the  distrac- 
tions of  dissipation,  the  consciousness  of  this  overwhelming 
ruin,  of  which  he  had  neither  the  courage,  nor  the  strength, 
nor  even  the  desire  to  become  the  reformer. 


214  BABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

Since  the  time  of  Colbert,  the  cardinal  de  Fleury  alone  had 
drawn  up  a  budget  in  which  the  expenses, — at  least  on  paper, 
— did  not  surpass  the  receipts ;  and  he  had  succeeded  in  this 
only  on  account  of  a  long  peace,  and  by  considerably  reduc- 
ing the  army,  and  giving  up  the  navy. 

In  the  budget  of  1726,  the  expenses  were  reduced  to  one 
hundred  and  eighty -two  millions,  a  sum  equal  and  even  inferior 
to  that  of  the  ordinary  receipts. 

This  total,  which  may  be  considered  very  small,  was  far 
from  being  as  small  as  it  seems. 

In  the  first  place,  one  hundred  and  eighty-two  millions  was 
at  that  time  equivalent  to  at  least  three  hundred  millions  of 
our  money. 

In  the  second  place,  the  population  has  doubled.  These 
three  hundred  millions  would  accordingly  be  equivalent  to  six 
hundred. 

Finally  a  great  number  of  expenses  defrayed  at  the  present 
time  by  the  central  exchequer,  were  then  defrayed  by  the  prov- 
inces. Thus,  for  instance,  in  this  same  budget  of  1726,  the 
public  works  were  set  down  at  only  four  millions. 

To  make  amends,  however,  in  spite  of  reductions  which  had 
appeared  exorbitant,  the  king's  household  figures  there  still  for 
twenty -one  millions,  (thirty-two  or  three  of  the  present  time ; 
nearly  one  hundred  thousand  francs  a  day.)  Now  the  king  in 
1726,  was  Louis  XV.,  then  sixteen  years  old,  already  married, 
but  without  children,  without  mistresses,  without  expensive 
tastes,  and  respectfully  submissive  to  the  old  minister  who  had 
laid  out  the  plan  of  expenses.  With  the  dominion  of  the 
passions  all  must  change.  The  fixed  and  acknowledged  ex- 
penses will  receive  but  little  increase.  The  king  will  even 
consent  willingly  to  their  reduction,  and  it  will  be  no  sacrifice 
to  him,  for  splendor  wearies  him.  He  feels  himself  lost  in  the 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  215 

immense  galleries  of  his  ancestor  ;  he  belittles  to  tne  best  of 
his  ability,  the  palace  of  Louis  XIV.  But  when  he  is  seen  to 
retrench  a  million  in  the  expenditures  which  at  least  serve  to 
keep  up  the  dignity  of  the  crown, — it  is  a  sign, — alas  ! — that 
he  is  going  to  throw  away  two,  if  not  more,  through  those 
channels  in  which  is  lost,  together  with  the  royal  gold,  all  the 
royal  dignity.  And  besides,  you  may  be  almost  certain  that 
these  very  economies  which  he  allows  to  be  trumpeted  abroad, 
will  never  be  put  into  execution.  He  has  not  courage  to  carry 
out  those  which  are  worth  it ;  he  is  told  that  it  is  not  worth  his 
while  to  trouble  himself  about  the  smaller  ones ;  and,  in  fact, 
a  few  crowns  clipped  from  so  many  millions,  would  be  a  mere 
farce.  If  the  poverty  arrive  at  its  height,  he  will  throw  his 
plate  into  the  furnaces  of  the  mint,  but  he  will  not  give  up  a 
louis  of  the  expenses  of  the  Parc-aux-Cerfs. 

This  very  day,  the  alarming  results  of  the  comptroller- 
general's  calculations  had  not  prevented  his  returning  to  the 
subject  of  his  gaming  funds,  in  the  presence  of  the  duke  de 
Choiseul.  We  have  alread}  heard  that  Monsieur  de  Silhouette 
had  succeeded  in  inducing  him  to  give  these  up ;  and  we  have 
seen  how  heavily  the  privation  weighed  upon  him.  Three  or 
four  days  after  he  had  given  it  up  he  had  begun  to  devise 
means  of  recovering  it.  He  dared  not  claim  it  again.  Mon- 
sieur de  Silhouette  was  a  grave  personage ;  and,  moreover,  the 
public  were  acquainted  with  the  transaction.  The  king  had 
been  commended,  the  minister  still  more  so.  So  that  in  this 
direction  there  was  nothing  to  be  effected. 

The  king  had  accordingly  consulted  the  duke  de  Choiseul. 
"  We  shall  see," — the  duke  had  said ;  but  he  asked  nothing 
better  than  to  set  the  king  once  more  upon  his  old  track.  It 
was  a  piece  of  good  fortune  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  perform 
such  a  service  for  the  king,  and  Choiseul  had  accordingly 


210  RABAUT     AND     BBIDAINE,     OB 

almost  promised  to  supply  him  with  the  necessary  funds.  S< 
that  the  king,  after  having  sent  for  him  on  quite  a  different 
business,  thought  only  of  the  money  when  his  minister  arrived. 

He  led  him  into  his  cabinet. 

"  Well,  Monsieur  the  duke,  what  news  ?" 

"  Despatches  from  Germany — " 

"  Ah  !  from  Germany — "  said  the  king,  in  the  tone  of  a  man 
who  receives  quite  a  different  answer  from  that  which  he  had 
expected. 

General  news, — grave,  important  news,  be  it  understood,  in- 
terested him  but  little.  He  would  at  any  time  willingly  lose 
the  thread  of  an  important  communication  in  order  to  hear  an 
anecdote  from  the  city.  "  We  have  news  from  Bavaria,"  he 
wrote  one  day  to  Madame  de  Chateauroux.  "  It  bears  date  the 
13th  of  December;  but  I  have  not  seen  it  yet"  And  this  was 
written  the  3d  of  January.  Madame  de  Chateauroux,  who  as- 
pired to  play  the  part  of  Agnes  Sorel,  was  excessively  annoyed 
at  this  strange  indifference ;  Madame  de  Pompadour,  on  the 
contrary,  drew  her  own  advantage  from  it. 

The  king  appeared  to  care  little  for  knowing  the  contents  of 
the  despatches  ;  but  the  minister  was  willing  to  let  him  remain 
in  suspense  a  little  longer,  hi  regard  to  what  he  so  much 
wished  to  know. 

"  Yes,  sire,  from  Germany.  It  appears  that  everything  goes 
on  tolerably  well.  The  campaign  commenced  rather  late  in 
June." 

"  Which  was  ridiculous  enough,"  said  the  king. 

"  Provisions  were  scanty,  transportation  difficult." 

"According  to  the  contractors." 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  the  marshal  de  Broglie  is  established  in 
Hesse.  They  are  now  putting  Hanover  under  contribution." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  21t 

"  Poor  Hanover !  After  Richelieu,  Broglie !  Has  an  engage- 
ment taken  place  ?" 

"  Yes,  near  Qostercamp." 

"  The  whole  army  V ' 

"  One  corps  only,  commanded  by  the  marquis  de  Castries. 
They  relieved  Wesel,  which  the  duke  of  Brunswick  was  upon 
the  point  of  taking.  He  came  very,  near  beating  us." 

"  And  these  contributions,"  said  the  king,  "  which  they  are 
levying  in  Hanover,— are  we  to  have  none  of  them  ?" 

"No,  sire.  We  think  ourselves  very  fortunate  that  they 
serve  to  defray  a  part  of  the  expenses  of  the  army." 

"  But,  I  suppose  there  will  at  least  be  something  to  deduct 
from  the  allotted  sum  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  calculations  have  already  proved  too 
small.  We  shall  be  obliged  to  add  several  millions." 

"  But  at  any  rate,  have  you  some  money  for  me  ?  Am  I  to 
be  the  last  one  served  T' 

"  Your  Majesty  can  command  anything.  But  you  are 
aware,  sire,  how  many  eyes  are  fixed  upon  you  at  this  time." 

"  You  say  that  the  duke  of  Brunswick  came  very  near  beat- 
ing us  ?" 

"  And  he  would  have  beaten  us,  sire,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  admirable  devotion  of  an  officei  of  the  regiment  of  Au- 
vergne,  the  chevalier  d'Assas." 

"  Another  one  to  be  paid,"  murmured  the  king. 

"  No,  sire ;  he  is  dead." 

"Ah!" 

"  They  were  about  to  fall  "into  an  ambuscade.  D'Assas,  who 
marched  at  the  head  of  the  column,  found  himself  suddenly 
surrounded  by  enemies.  They  ordered  him  to  be  silent  or  he 
was  a  dead  man.  '  To  the  rescue !' — he  shouted, — '  these  are 
enemies.'  And  he  fell  pierced  with  a  thousand  wounds." 


218  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAINE,     OR 

But  the  icing  had  something  else  to  do  besides  admire  those 
who  lost  their  lives  for  him.  He  wanted  his  gaming  funds  ;  and 
he  returned  to  the  subject  with  the  pertinacity  of  a  child  who 
resists  too  long  a  refusal.  The  minister  perceived  that  unless 
he  wished  to  put  the  king's  gratitude  out  of  the  question,  this 
was  the  moment  to  yield. 

"  Sire,"  he  said,  "  having  taken  all  things  into  consideration, 
I  have  found  that  it  will  perhaps  not  be  impossible  to  gratify 
your  wish.  A  few  private  retrenchments  from  the  funds  of 
my  department*  would  indemnify  you  for  what  you  have 
thought  fit  to  give  up." 

"  And  no  one  will  know  of  it  ?" 

"No  one." 

"  And  when  they  see  that  I  play  ?" 

"  The  king  is  not  obliged  to  give  explanations  of  his  actions." 

He  accepted.  Two  days  afterwards,  the  affair  was  public. 
Who  had  betrayed  the  secret?  The  minister  perhaps;  per- 
haps  the  king  himself,  without  suspecting  it.  But  he  continued 
to  imagine  that  no  one  saw  any  harm  in  it ; — and  as  stolen 
fruit  is  always  sweeter,  it  is  said,  than  that  of  one's  own 
trees, — he  had  never  played  with  more  pleasure  than  with  this 
money  purloined  from  diplomatic  intrigues. 

XLVI. 

THE    KING    AND    HIS    MINISTER. 

But  to  return  to  the  edict.     Once  satisfied,  the  king  appeared 

rather  more  disposed  to  talk  about  business.     He  inquired 

about  the  details  of  the  campaign,  recurred  to  the  death  of 

d'Assas,  and  spoke  of  him  with  commendation.     He  even 

*  Foreign  affairs. 


THE     COURT    OF     LOUIS     XV.  219 

made  a  memorandum  of  some  observations  to  be  suggested  to 
the  count  de  Belle-Isle,  the  minister  of  war.  In  short,  he 
thought  of  everything  except  the  subject  in  regard  to  which  he 
had  sent  for  the  minister. 

But  as  the  duke  was  leaving  him,  the  king  cried  : 

"  Ah !  I  was  forgetting.  You  are  to  draw  me  up  an  edict, 
if  you  please,  in  regard  to  the  Protestants." 

"  But,  sire,  all  the  measures  which  can  "possibly  be  taken 
against  them,  have  been  taken." 

"  I  did  not  say  against  them." 

"  It  is  to  be  then—" 

"  What  your  friends  the  encyclopedists  require.  What,  does 
it  not  suit  you  ?" 

"  It  is  a  very  serious  matter,  sire." 

"  And  therefore,  you  see  that  I  charge  you  with  it,  and  not 
the  count  de  Saint-Florentin,  whose  business  it  would  be." 

"  It  is  a  great  honor,  sire ;  but — " 

He  was  greatly  embarrassed.  To  object  to  it,  would  be  to 
deny  the  principles  which  the  king  knew  to  be  his  ;  yet  it  did 
not  suit  him  at  the  present  moment  to  change  anything  in  re- 
gard to  the  old  severities.  We  have  seen  that  it  was  pecu- 
liarly necessary  for  him  to  contrive  a  reply  to  give  to  any  one 
who  might  accuse  him  of  weakening  Catholicism  ;  that  he  par 
ticularly,  must  seek  to  cover  with  the  ancient  drapery  of  in- 
tolerance, all  that  he  began  to  dare  against  the  old  Romish 
spirit.  Moreover,  he  was  not  a  man  to  torment  himself  by 
thinking  of  the  sufferings  which  must  necessarily  be  continued 
by  this  policy.  When  the  general  attains  his  object,  he  very 
easily  takes  his  part  of  the  fatigues  and  evils  to  which  he  is 
about  to  expose  his  soldiers.  Thus  proceeded  Monsieur  de 
Choiseul.  It  cost  him  no  more  to  leave  a  part  of  the  popula- 
tion under  the  dominion  of  unjust,  cruel  laws,  than  to 


220  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,    OR 

send  a  regiment  to  the  war  in  Germany,  or  a  frigate  to  Pon. 
dicherry. 

"  So  you  do  not  think  it  a  good  idea?"  resumed  the  king. 

"  I  do  not  say  that,  sire.  But  I  repeat  that  it  is  a  serious 
matter.  I  should  like  to  reflect.  Your  Majesty  is  not  accus- 
tomed to  make  such  sudden  resolutions." 

"  This  was  in  truth  a  point  which  aroused  the  uneasiness  of 
the  minister.  He  trembled  lest  he  might  discover  in  the  de- 
termination of  the  king  the  influence  of  some  rival. 

"  You  are  surprised  at  that  ?"  said  Louis  XV.  "  Perhaps  it 
is  not  wonderful  that  you  should  be.  But  I  know  from  ex- 
perience that  what  I  do  not  set  about  immediately,  I  never  do 
at  all.  Besides,  the  edict  will  be  discussed  in  the  council." 

"  But  I  should  like  your  Majesty  to  inform  me  at  least  of 
its  grounds." 

"  Well,  we  will  talk  of  it  again." 

"  Has  your  Majesty  any  other  commands  ?" 

"  No. — But  stay.     When  will  you  send  me  something  ?" 

"  Immediately,  if  your  Majesty  wishes." 

"  No.     Not  this  evening.     I  have  something  else  to  do." 

XLVII. 

THE    KING'S    EDICT. 

"  What  can  he  have  to  do  f  thought  the  minister,  as  he  took 
his  departure.  And  he  tried  in  vain  to  console  himself  by 
the  reflection  that  he  should  hear  the  next  day  from  Madame 
de  Pompadour;  he  saw  the  king  already  throwing  off  his 
guardianship,  or  choosing  other  guardians. 

The  king  thought  very  little  of  any  such  thing ;  he  was  only 
delighted,  though  without  explaining  to  himself  why,  to  feel 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  221 

himself  once  more  disposed  to  do  something  of  his  own  ac- 
cord. It  was  like  the  pleasure  of  the  child,  which  finds  itself 
able,  without  knowing  how,  to  take  a  few  steps  all  alone. 

He  reflected  for  a  few  moments,  then  as  if  proud  of  his  new 
way  of  proceeding,  and  desirous  to  display  it,  he  returned  to 
the  marquise. 

She  was  alone.  The  duke  de  Richelieu,  as  she  told  the 
king,  had  gone  to  give  some  orders  concerning  the  fete  at 
Bellevue. 

"  Marquise,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  this  matter  finished.  I  am 
going  to  try  my  hand  on  this  edict,  which  they  pretend  is  so 
difficult  to  draw  up.  You  are  going  to  serve  me  again  as  sec- 
retary. Write : 

"  Although  firmly  resolved  to  live  and  die  in  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  to  endure  no  attack  of  any  kind  whatsoever,  against 
its  rights,  honors,  or  privileges,  yet  as  it  has  been  represented 
to  us  that  a  part  of  our  subjects  have  never  yet  been  induced 
to  embrace  the  truth,  it  has  appeared  to  us  that  there  is  room 
for  the  modification  of  our  previous  edicts,  put  forth  in  the 
supposition  that  there  existed  but  one  religion  in  our  kingdom. 

"  Our  non-Catholic  subjects  will  continue  disqualified,  in  any 
case,  under  any  form  or  denomination  possible,  to  constitute  a 
party  in  the  State.  They  will  remain  subjected  to  all  the 
general  ordinances,  including  those  relative  to  the  external  ob- 
servance of  the  fetes  of  the  Church.  No  privilege  can  be 
granted  them ;  no  right  which  they  might  not  have  in  common 
with  all  our  subjects,  will  result  from  the  present  edict. 

"  Out  intentions  thus  declared,  we  have  commanded,  and 
now  command,  as  follows : 

"  Art.  I.  The  civil  incapacitation  to  which  our  non-Catholic 
subjects  have  been  liable  until  now,  from  the  fact  of  their  non- 
Catholicity,  is  and  remains  abolished. 


222  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Art.  II.  Their  declarations  of  births,  marriages,  or  deaths, 
may  be  received  by  the  officers  of  justice,  without  the  inter- 
vention of  the  priests. 

"  Art.  III.  There  shall  be  now,  as  always,  but  one  public 
worship,  that  of  the  Catholic  religion.  But — " 

The  king  considered,  not  without  embarrassment,  how  he 
should  continue  this  article,  when  some  one  was  heard  to 
scratch  at  the  door.  He  opened  it.  A  page  presented  himself. 

"  His  reverence  Father  Desmarets  requests  to  know  whether 
his  Majesty  will  have  the  goodness  to  receive  him  for  a  few 
moments." 

"  Father  Desmarets,  marquise  !"  said  the  king,  turning  sud- 
denly. "  What  does  he  want  with  me  ?" 

"  Ah !  sire,  he  has  scented  the  edict." 

"  It  is  impossible." 

"Fora  Jesuit?" 

"  Must  I  see  him  f 

"  Certainly.     But  let  me  go  out." 

"  Au  revoir,  then." 

"  At  supper." 

"  Good." 

She  disappeared  by  one  door,  and  a  few  seconds  afterwards 
Desmarets  entered  by  the  other. 

XLVIII. 

THE     KING'S     CONFESSOR. 

She  was  not  mistaken.  The  confessor  had  seer  ted  the  edict. 
But  it  was  not  this  edict,  projected  scarcely  an  hour  before, 
which  had  brought  him  to  Versailles  this  evening. 

Richelieu  had  met  him,  pacing  gravely  and  gloomily  to- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  223 

wards  the  apartment  of  the  king.  These  two  very  dissimilar 
confidants  of  the  faults  of  the  same  man,  had  always  regarded 
each  other  with  considerable  jealousy.  Living  personifications 
of  the  two  principles  which  strove  together  in  the  king's  heart, 
it  was  generally  more  or  less  perceptible  from  their  manner 
towards  one  another,  which  of  the  two  had  for  the  moment  the 
upper  hand  in  this  domain  so  constantly  tossed  to  and  fro  be- 
tween heaven  and  hell.  The  same  feelings  were,  however, 
displayed  in  a  very  different  manner  by  these  two  men. 
Richelieu  when  he  triumphed,  only  glanced  down  at  Des- 
marets, from  the  height  of  his  importance ;  but  Desmarets 
triumphed  with  his  eyes  more  humbly  cast  down,  his  voice 
sweeter,  and  his  demeanor  more  lowly  than  ever.  And  at  the 
moments  when  he  himself  knew  not  whether  he  were  con- 
queror or  conquered,  his  deportment  was  a  singular  mingling 
of  resigned  pride,  and  proud  humility. 

Richelieu  amused  himself,  when  he  had  an  opportunity,  by 
drawing  out  the  old  Jesuit,  as  he  said.  With  the  vanity 
which  his  successes  with  the  ladies  had  encouraged,  he  actually 
fancied  that  he  had  very  little  trouble  in  causing  him  to  betray 
his  most  private  feelings,  never  perceiving  that  he  began  by 
betraying  his  own,  and  that  Desmarets  had  reached  the  inmost 
recesses  of  his  thoughts,  while  he  himself  had  scarcely  touched 
those  of  Desmarets. 

"  Ah !  good  evening,  Father,  good  evening !"  he  cried. 
"  Are  you  going  to  the  king  ]" 

"  If  his  Majevty  condescend  to  receive  me." 

"  If  his  Majesty  condescend  1  What !  is  not  Fatner  Des 
.narets  always  welcome, — day  and  night  1" 

He  thought  himself  very  cunning  and  mischevious  in  re 
/•rinding  Desmar6ts  of  the  evening  when  he  had  came  as  far  as 
che  ante-chamber,  only  t^  be  told  by  the  valets  that  the  king 


oo  J  RABAVT      AND      li  KI  D  A  I  X  E  ,     OR 

was  with  his  mistress.  But  it  was  this  very  recollection  that 
the  Jesuit  was  resolved  to  brave.  He  came  now  in  the  even 
ing  precisely  to  wipe  out  the  old  affront  by  having  himself 
announced  to  the  king,  wherever  he  might  be,  and  in  whatever 
society  he  might  chance  to  be  engaged. 

"  Monsieur  the  duke  is  very  good,"  he  said. 

"  I  will  not  detain  you,  Father.  His  Majesty  is  occupied,  it 
is  true." 

"  Ah !" 

"But  in  a  very  holy  manner.  About  the  affairs  of  the 
Huguenots." 

"  Some  edict,  without  doubt  ?" 

"  Yes  indeed — an  edict — the  like  of  which  we  have  not  yet 
seen.  Go,  Father, — go." 

And  he  himself  went  on,  with  a  sneer  and  a  laugh. 

"  On  my  honor,"  he  said,  "  the  edict  is  in  great  peril.  This 
infernal  man  will  never  allow  it  to  come  to  anything.  And  he 
will  be  so  much  the  more  enraged  because  he  expects  some- 
thing quite  different — persecutions, — dragoons.  I  should  like 
to  see  his  face  when  he  learns  the  true  state  of  the  case." 

And  the  good  Father  too,  s'neered  and  laughed  as  he  went  on 
His  way ;  and  he  better  knew  why.  In  the  first  place,  he 
guessed  well  enough  from  the  air  of  the  marshal,  what  must  be 
the  spirit  of  the  edict.  And  thanks  to  one  of  his  trusty  friends, 
Richelieu's  secretary,  he  had  for  the  last  two  days  had  in  his 
pocket  a  copy  of  the  petition  which  had  just  been  read  to  the 
king.  And  in  these  tolerant  thoughts  which  had  entered  the 
mind  of  Louis  XV.,  he  saw  a  means  of  gaining  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  designs. 

A  great  council  had  been  held  at  Paris,  consisting  of  the 
principal  leaders  of  the  order.  They  had  agreed,  as  previously, 
at  the  archbishop's, — in  acknowledging  the  imminence  of  their 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  225 

danger,  which  made  appalling  progress.  Some,  particularly 
the  Provincial,  persisted  in  thinking  that  they  ought  to  await 
the  blow,  and  fall  without  a  struggle,  or  conquer  without  war- 
fare ;  the  others,  while  acknowledging  that  a  public  resistance 
would  but  aggravate  the  evils  of  their  situation,  wished  that  it 
should  at  least  be  more  clearly  ascertained  how  they  stood 
with  the  king,  and  what  might  be  expected  from  him.  It  had 
been  decided  that  his  confessor  should  go  to  him,  ask  him  the 
question  frankly,  and  warn  him  that  he  must  give  a  decision. 
Desmarets,  who  was  charged  with  this  mission,  was  one  of 
those  who  hoped  the  least  from  it.  He  had  brought  forward  as 
an  objection,  the  natural  indecision  of  the  king,  and  his  incapa- 
bility of  carrying  out  his  own  most  decided  wishes ;  he  had  said 
that  all  might  be  lost,  with  scarcely  a  chance  of  gaining  anything. 
But  the  thing  once  decided,  he  had  obeyed,  as  a  Jesuit  alone 
knows  how  to  obey.  The  will  of  his  Order,  represented  by 
these  assembled  Fathers,  had  become  his  own.  He  marched 
to  the  combat  without  fear,  as  without  hope,  equally  ready  to 
dare  much  or  little,  to  press  forward  or  to  draw  back. 

XLIX. 

POLICY. 

"  Enter,  Father,"  said  the  king.     "  To  what  do  I  owe  the 
pleasure — " 
.    "  You  are  surprised  to  see  me,  sire  1" 

«  Why—" 

"  Yes,  I  asked  myself  as  I  came,  what  business  I  had  here. 
The  king  is  willing  to  be  lost,  I  thought,  let  him  be  lost ;  but 
to  drag  with  him  to  perdition,  France, — the  Church — " 

"  This  language — Father — " 


226  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Perchance  God  may  punish  me  for  not  having  spoken  thus 
to  you  sooner,  more  clearly.  I  shall  speak  no  more  to  you  of 
your  immorality.  I  have  performed  my  duty  on  this  point. 
I  have  said  all  to  you  that  I  had  to  say,  but  in  vain.  But 
lately,  after  resolutions  and  promises  which  I  began  to  believe 
serions,  you  mocked — I  will  not  say  me  ;  the  king  of  France 
is  perfectly  at  liberty  to  mock  Father  Desmarets, — but  God, 
of  whom  the  Scripture  says ;  '  Be  not  deceived,  God  is  not 
mocked."1  And  accordingly  the  punishment  has  followed  hard 
upon  the  offence." 

"  The  punishment  ?"  said  the  king,  astonished. 

"  Yes ;  and  it  is  a  double  punishment,  since  you  are  not  con- 
scious of  it.  '  Seeing,  they  may  see,'  saith  the  Scripture,  '  and 
not  perceive ;  and  hearing,  they  may  hear,  and  not  understand ; 
lest  at  any  time  they  should  be  converted,  and  their  sins  should 
be  forgiven  them.' " 

"  And  where,"  said  the  king,  "  do  you  perceive  this  blindness 
of  which  you  speak  ?  I  have  sinned,  but  not  without  knowing 
it.  Would  to  God  it  were  so !" 

"  A  king  is  not  responsible  only  for  that  evil  which  he  him- 
self does ;  he  is  also  responsible,  perhaps  even  more  so,  for 
the  evil  which  he  allows  to  be  done.  Well,  sire,  have  you 
reflected  on  the  evil  which  you  are  allowing  to  be  done  ?  Do 
you  prevent  that  which  it  is  in  your  power  to  prevent  1  Do 
you  punish  that  which  it  is  in  your  power  to  punish  1  Do  you 
lament  over  that  which  it  is  in  your  power  neither  to  prevent 
nor  punish  1" 

"  If  I  were  obliged  to  punish  or  deplore  all  the  evil  which  is 
said  or  done  in  France,  should  I  hold  out  long  ?  No  king  ever 
was  saved,  if  this  be  necessary." 

"  In  truth,  no  king  was  ever  saved,  if  he  refused  to  offer  to 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  227 

heaven,  for  his  sins  and  those  of  his  people,  such  atonements  as 
it  lay  in  his  power  to  offer." 

"  Yes — that  is  it.  We  are  to  be  the  servants  of  the  Church, 
your  servants  more  especially, — and  then  we  may  do  what  we 
like." 

"  What  you  like  1  No,  sire.  You  will  find  us  near  you 
whenever  you  sin.  Before  you  sin,  we  will  adjure  you,  in  the 
name  of  God,  to  desist ;  afterwards,  we  will  be  there  to  offer 
you  pardon,  still  in  the  name  of  God.  We  are  able  to  offer 
it, — but  pay  its  price  we  cannot,  if  we  should  give  our  blood. 
It  is  for  you  to  pay  this  price ;  and  with  what  ]  If  the  treasure 
has  not  been  amassed  beforehand,  where  shall  it  be  procured 
at  the  last  moment  ?" 

This  embraces  the  whole  of  Jesuitism.  We  are  to  pay  for 
heaven,  instead  of  receiving  it  by  faith,  accompanied  by  works, 
as  a  pure  gift  of  the  mercy  of  God. 

"  Yes,"  he  repeated ;  "  where  shall  it  be  procured  ?  Ah  ! 
what  a  frightful  death !  The  death  of  a  sovereign  forced  to 
exclaim,  in  expiring,  '  I  have  had  twenty  years,  thirty  years, 
half  a  century,  in  which  to  labor  for  the  glory  of  God — and  I 
have  done  nothing !'  " 

"  Nothing  ?"  cried  the  king. 

"  Nothing.  For  so  long  as  there  is  something  to  be  done, 
which  can  be  done, — and  which  is  yet  neglected, — nothing  is 
done.  Would  you  look  upon  an  enemy  as  vanquished,  suffi- 
ciently vanquished,  at  least,  for  your  glory  and  safety,  whom 
you  had  not  crushed  more  than  you  have  crushed  these  execra- 
ble principles  with  which  you  permit  your  States  to  be  over- 
run ?  Do  you  suppose  your  allies  disposed  to  praise  your 
sincerity, — those  allies  whom  you  allow  to  be  threatened  and 
insulted  as  we  are  threatened  and  insulted  ?" 

"  Allies !"  murmured  the  king.     "  Since  when  ?" 


228  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"Since  when?  Listen,  sire.  Since  kings  legan  to  exist, 
there  has  been  of  necessity  an  alliance  between  those  who 
command,  and  those  who  preach  obedience.  Besides  this, 
there  must  stand  above  those  who  command  in  the  name  of 
the  earth,  those  who  command  in  the  name  of  heaven, — and 
the  first  have  never  endeavored  to  rid  themselves  of  the  second 
with  impunity.  This  principle  of  obedience, — without  which 
all  your  power  would  be  swept  away  like  a  vapor,  by  the  first 
wind, — dwells  in  us,  sire, — our  society  is  at  the  present  day 
its  representative,  its  embodiment.  Do  you  ask  by  what 
right  ?  Woe  be  to  that  sovereign  who  in  these  days  when  all 
is  tottering,  should  pause  to  seek  our  right !  We  are, — that  is 
sufficient.  We  do  not  begin,  in  the  midst  of  the  tempest,  to 
discuss  the  history,  the  form,  the  nature  of  the  rock  which  of- 
fered us  a  shelter." 

"  And  if  the  rock  also  should  totter  ?"  said  the  king.  "  If 
there  should  be  danger  of  our  being  swept  away  with  it  ?" 

"  There  is  more  danger  of  this  without  it.  Yes,  sire ;  what- 
ever opinions  and  prejudices  may  exist  in  regard  to  us,  we 
have  become,  from  the  force  of  circumstances  alone,  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  past,  the  depositories  of  all  traditions.  In  our 
soil,  as  if  in  their  native  ground,  all  monarchies  as  well  as  the 
Church  have  struck  deep  root.  Let  this  soil  be  torn  up,  and 
you  will  see  whether  the  plough  of  the  age  will  spare  one 
more  than  the  other.  If  you  wish  to  precipitate  yourself,  in 
the  train  of  the  philosophers,  into  that  new  world  which  they 
speak  of  opening  to  the  nations,  then  I  have  nothing  to  say  to 
you.  First  lay  your  crown  upon  the  threshold,  if  you  would 
not  have  it  presently  rolled  into  the  mire.  But  if  you  care  to 
keep  it  upon  your  head,  then  no  more  of  these  subterfuges 
which  lead  to  the  perdition  of  your  own  soul  and  of  your 
kingdom.  You  must  be  openly  the  friend  and  supporter  of 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  229 

those  who  cannot  defend  themselves  without  defending  you, 
nor  fall  without  your  falling  also.  The  time  no  longer  exists 
when  sensible  people  might  assert  that  our  society  is  not  the 
Church,  is  not  religion.  Religion  and  the  Church  were  in  ex- 
istence before  us,  but  will  they  exist  after  us  ?  That  is  the 
question.  It  is  no  longer  the  time  to  inquire  how  we  gained, 
or  allowed  to  be  given  us  such  a  position  as  we  now  hold  ;  but 
it  is  necessary  to  understand  that  such  is  our  position,  and  that 
M  hoever  at  the  present  day  is  not  for  us,  is  necessarily  against 
us,  against  religion,  and  against  monarchy,  and  against  all  that 
monarchy,  religion,  and  the  Church  have  to  uphold  in  this 
world.  After  that,  consider  what  you  had  better  do." 


L. 


A     HARD     STRUGGLE . V  I  C  T  O  R  V. 

Thus  spoke  the  king's  confessor.  He  was  pertinacious,  cut- 
ting, and  inexorable,  and  moreover,  he  was  right.  As  we 
have  already  said,  then  as  now,  Jesuitism  was  Catholicism  in- 
carnate. In  spite  of  any  precautions  which  might  be  taken, 
and  of  any  illusions  which  might  be  courted,  a  rupture  with 
Jesuitism,  was  a  rupture  with  Catholicism ;  it  was  opening  to 
the  light  of  day  all  the  abysses  slumbering  in  the  shadows  of 
the  past.  And  a  vague  instinct  had  already  long  ago  whis- 
pered to  the  king  all  that  he  had  just  heard.  Had  ue  been 
bolder,  more  active,  he  would  have  been  seen  from  his  youth 
at  the  head  of  the  champions  of  the  past.  He  might  have 
been  broken  perhaps,  but  would  never  have  yielded. 

"  I  am  too  old,"  he  said. 

"  Too  old  to  serve  God  ?"  asked  the  Jesuit.  "  You  {.re  not 
too  old  to  sin  against  him." 


230  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Father,"  interrupted  the  king,  "  we  are  not  now  in  the  con 
fessional.     Do  not  oblige  me  to  remind  you  that  you  are 
before  the  king,  and  in  his  palace.     Well, — what  is  the  mat- 
ter ?     What  are  you  doing  ?" 

Desmarets  made  no  reply.  He  kneeled  slowly  with  his 
head  bowed  and  his  hands  joined,  before  a  seat  upon  which  he 
had  placed  a  crucifix. 

"  Oh  God !"  he  at  length  said,  "  it  is  true  that  I  am  in  the 
palace  of  the  king,  and  in  his  presence ;  but  I  am  none  the  less 
in  yours.*  Have  I  gone  beyond  my  duty  ?  Have  I  failed  in 
respect  to  your  anointed?  If  I  have  done  so,  pardon  me, 
Lord.  But  above  all,  do  not  let  him  suffer  for  my  fault ;  let 
not  my  imprudence  be  a  pretext  for  him  to  harden  his  heart. 
Let  him  break  the  vase,  if  he  will,  but  let  him  gather  up  its 
contents.  Let  him  refuse  to  me,  a  sinner,  the  account  of  his 
deeds,  if  he  but  give  it  to  you,  to  you,  my  God !  You  have 
given  him  for  a  long  time  a  high  place  in  this  world ;  you  have 
willed  that  he  should  be  born  to  effect  the  salvation  or  per- 
dition of  a  multitude  of  your  children.  You  have  committed 
to  him  not  one,  not  five,  not  ten  talents,  as  to  the  servant  in 
*he  parable,  but  a  hundred,  a  thousand,  a  hundred  thousand. 
What  has  he  done  with  them,  my  God,  and  what  will  he  bring 
to  you,  when  at  the  last  day  you  ask  him  for  the  interest  ? 
You  established  him  hi  your  place  to  make  your  laws  respect- 
ed, and  behold  these  laws  are  violated  with  impunity.  You 
destined  him  to  be  a  terror  to  the  impious,  and  behold  impiety 
appears  boldly.  Eldest  son  of  the  Church,  he  is  upon  the 
point  of  abandoning  his  mother,  and  of  allowing  her  most  de- 
voted defenders  to  be  driven  from  her  side.  Most  Christian 
king,  he  is  about  to  extend  his  hand  to  heresy — " 

*  The  Romauists  employ  the  second  person  plural  in  addressing  the 
Deity  Tr. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  231 

•'  It  is  false,"  cried  the  king. 

But  Desmarets  continued,  without  pausing,  or  changing  his 
tone. 

" He  is  going  to  restore  to  error  the  hope  of  oiice 

fl  ore  raising  her  altars — " 

"  It  is  false,"  repeated  the  king.  • 

But  he  was  shaken.  The  tone,  the  calmness  of  the  Jesuit 
moved  him.  He  shuddered  to  hear  himself  spoken  of,  in  his 
Dwn  presence,  as  the  dead  are  spoken  of. 

" He  must  have  been  very  guilty  then,  oh  God,  that 

you  should  have  forsaken  him  so  far  !  He  must  have  appeared 
to  you  very  unworthy  of  defending  your  cause,  that  you 
should  have  allowed  him  to  lose  all  abhorrence  for  your 
enemies ! — " 

"  Read,"  cried  the  king,  "  read  !" 

"  What  is  this  ?"  said  Desmarets,  slowly  turning  his  gaze 
from  his  ebony  crucifix,  and  glancing  at  the  paper  extended  to 
him  by  the  king. 

"  It  is  my  edict.  Read  it.  See  whether  I  forsake  the  faith 
which  you  accuse  me  of  denying !" 

Desmarets  arose.  The  hand  which  held  the  paper  trembled. 
He  had  reached  the  last  line  before  his  look  appeared  to  have 
quitted  the  first,  which  he  seemed  to  be  reading  slowly,  word 
for  word. 

"  Good  God !"  he  murmured,  "  good  God !" 

"Well?" 

"  Words  at  the  commencement ;  deeds  afterwards ;  and  the 
deeds  wipe  out  the  words." 

And  again  he  fell  upon  his  knees;  he  ago. HI  clasped  his 
hands.  His  eyes  wandered  from  the  crucifix  to  the  edict ;  for 
the  paper  had  dropped  from  his  hand,  and  fallen  upon  the  floor 
before  the  crucifix. 


232  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINK,     Oil 

"  My  God ! '  he  cried.  "  Behold  what  is  offered  you !  In- 
stead of  an  active  faith,  vain  protestations.  Zeal  professedly 
but  treason  in  reality !  He  wishes  to  live  and  die,  he  says,  in 
the  bosom  of  your  Church,  and  he  abandons  the  attempt  to 
bring  those  back  who  have  abandoned  it.  He  declares  that  he 
has  faith  in  her,  and  he  permits  other  instructions  beside  hers. 
He  guarantees  to  her  her  prerogatives,  and  leaves  in  peace 
those  who  deny  them.  In  public,  her  worship  alone  may  be 
celebrated;  but  in  private,  heresy  may  freely  carry  on  its 
own.  As  if,  Lord,  there  were  any  difference  in  your  eyes 
between  an  insult  in  the  midst  of  a  city,  and  an  insult  in  the 
solitude  of  a  desert ;  between  an  abomination  committed  in 
the  day,  and  one  committed  at  night !  What  will  this  pre- 
tended most  Christian  kingdom  be.  when  all  this  happens,  but 
a  whited  sepulchre,  in  which  uncleanness  gathers  and  increases  ? 
What  will  this  king  be—" 

"  Enough,  Father,"  said  Louis  XV.  "  Let  it  be  as  God  will. 
I  should  hold  my  salvation  too  dearly  bought,  if  it  must  be 
paid  for  by  the  continued  sufferings  of  so  many  people.  No ! 
Do  not  speak  of  it  again.  Let  them  be  converted ;  I  am  most 
willing ;  but  I  have  permitted  their  persecution  already  too 
long.  This  edict  shall  be  put  into  execution,  Father." 

"No." 

"You  said  no,— I  think?" 

"I  said  no." 

"  It  shall  be  executed,  I  tell  you." 

"  No." 

"  It  is  my  will." 

"  It  is  not  the  will  of  God." 

"  It  is  mine.     Unless  a  miracle  take  pkce — " 

But  he  could  not  go  on.  Desmarets  stood  with  his  arm 
raised,  his  eye  flashing,  and  seemed  but  to  have  a  word  to 


THE     COUUT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  233 

speak  to  _call  forth  the  miracle.  The  king  recoiled,  silent, 
startled.  It  might  have  been  taken  for  an  apparition,  with  a 
man  terrified  at  having  evoked  it. 

"  A  miracle !"  said  Desmarets,  slowly.  "  If  one  be  needed, 
it  will  take  place.  Where?  When1?  How?  God  only 
knows !  But  He  will  not  permit  the  consummation  of  this 
apostacy.  The  eldest  son  of  the  Church  shall  not  batter  down 
her  ramparts.  Let  him  reflect  and  tremble.  At  the  first 
stroke  his  hand  would  wither." 

And  he  let  his  hand  drop,  at  d,  with  his  eyes  cast  down  and 
his  head  bowed,  as  if  beneath  the  weight  of  the  maledictions 
which  could  be  seen  in  his  glance,  he  quitted  the  apartment. 

The  king  had  held  out,  but  only  with  the  most  violent  effort. 
He  had  in  these  few  moments  exhausted  all  the  powers  of  his 
mind,  so  unused  to  exerting  a  will  of  its  own.  A  complete 
prostration  had  followed  the  excitement  of  the  struggle.  A 
weak  man  is  his  own  most  redoubtable  enemy  and  constant 
conqueror. 

LI. 

MADAME     DU     DEFFANT. 

Let  us  return  to  Paris. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  same  week,  the  Staff  Officers  of 
Philosophy  were  one  evening  assembled  at  the  house  of  the 
marquise  du  Deffant. 

They  talked.  Of  what  did  they  not  talk  !  We  have  already 
described  conversation  at  an  era  when  newspapers  were  not  in 
existence, — when  all  the  news  that  now  comes  to  us  in  a  printed 
form  was  circulated  by  means  of  lively  gossip, — and  \vhen 
liberty,  banished  from  the  press,  took  refuge  in  the  saloons. 

A  saloon,  in  the  sense  assigned  to  the  wore  by  custom,  sig 


231  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

nified  essentially  a  saloon  presided  over  by  a  woman.  A  man, 
however  distinguished  he  might  be,  and  however  frequented 
his  house,  might  have  re-unions,  dinners,  suppers,  but  he  could 
fcot  have  a  saloon. 

Each  saloon,  besides  its  casual  visitors,  had  its  special 
habitues.  "What  woman  of  talent  could  do  without  her 
menagerie?"  said  Madame  de  Tencin,  whose  two  principal 
leasts,  to  speak  in  her  own  style,  were  Fontenelle  and  Mon- 
tesquieu ! 

Now,  of  all  the  saloons  of  the  day,  that  of  Madame  du  Def- 
fant  was  at  this  time  the  most  in  vogue.  Madame  GeofTrin, 
her  rival,  was  equally  clever,  and  had  an  equal  number  of 
friends ;  but — and  it  was  an  important  point — they  felt  a  little 
less  at  their  ease  with  her.  The  bold  spirits  feared  offending 
her,  and  the  timid  preferred  going  where  it  was  less  dangerous 
to  be  bold.  They  dined  with  pleasure  with  Madame  Geoffrin ; 
but  they  liked  better  to  philosophize  at  Madame  du  Deffant's. 

And  at  both  places,  moreover,  was  always  to  be  met  a 
woman  who  began  to  dispute  the  pre-eminence  with  them, — 
Mademoiselle  de  1'Espinasse.  Her  equivocal  birth,  peculiar 
countenance,  great  wit,  and  tolerable  amount  of  learning,  had 
soon  made  her  the  fashion.  Madame  du  Deffant  had  received 
her  into  her  house,  after  she  lost  her  sight,  in  order  to  receive 
the  guests,  and  still  more  in  order  to  keep  her  company,  for 
she  could  not  endure  being  alone,  even  for  an  instant.  To 
converse  and  to  listen  to  conversation,  was  to  her  not  merely 
a  pleasure,  but  a  necessity,  the  greatest,  and,  in  some  sort,  the 
only  one ;  her  all  and  her  existence ;  a  mania,  for  that  matter, 
which  was  that  of  the  age.  In  truth,  the  eighteenth  century 
was  pretty  well  represented  by  this  blind  old  woman  philoso- 
phizing in  her  arm-chair. 

In  the  midst  of  this  vor/ex,  of  which  it  pleased  her  to  be  the 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  235 

centre,  Madam  e  du  Defiant  was,  according  to  her  own  state- 
ment, the  woman  most  ennuyee  in  all  France.  She  spoke  of 
her  ennui  as  Voltaire  did  of  his  ailments, — that  is  to  say,  un- 
ceasingly, and  to  everybody.  She  had  commenced  long  before 
becoming  blind,  as  Voltaire  had  long  before  becoming  infirm. 
A  singular  compliment  to  the  witty  crowd  who  regaled  her. 
with  their  prattling !  But  they  did  not  heed  it.  It  was  of 
little  importance  that  she  continued  to  complain  of  ennui,  so 
long  as  they  continued  to  amuse  themselves  so  well  hi  her  saloon. 
She  had  lately  become  sensible  of  that  which  she  ought  to 
have  foreseen.  Her  dependent  was  becoming  her  protectress ; 
her  saloon  was  now  but  that  of  Mademoiselle  de  1'Espinasse. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  Dismiss  her  ?  But  there  were  plenty 
of  people  ready  to  establish  her  in  a  house  of  her  own,  and  this 
new  saloon  once  opened,  who  would  remain  faithful  to  that  of 
the  poor  blind  woman  ]  A  final  discovery  had  nearly  brought 
on  a  rupture,  which,  however,  only  took  place  four  years  after- 
wards. Three  of  the  most  constant  visitors  of  the  baronne's 
soirees  had  been  convicted  of  calling  during  the  day,  in  order 
to  converse  with  Mademoiselle  de  1'Espinasse.  "  Jt  is  a  viper 
which  I  have  cherished  hi  my  bosom,"  cried  the  mistress  of  the 
house  at  this  news.  She  would  have  overlooked  a  love  affair ; 
she  forgave  her  very  willingly  afterwards,  when  people  began 
to  give  this  name  to  her  friendship  for  d'Alembert.  But  to 
converse  out  of  her  presence,  to  deprive  her  of  a  portion  of  her 
daily  bread  by  carrying  off"  the  best  of  the  news  and  prattle, 
could  in  her  eyes  be  nothing  less  than  the  most  abominable 
treason.  It  caused  an  endless  series  of  misunderstandings,  dis- 
putes as  d  reconciliations,  whose  history  must  be  read  in  the 
writings  of  the  time,  in  order  to  form  an  idea  of  the  importance 
which  the  household  of  two  women  could  assume,  hi  the  vast 
inactivity  of  French  society. 


236  RABAUT     AND     BUIDAINE,    OR 

LII. 

CONVERSATION    IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH     CENTURY. 

It  has  struck  nine.  The  saloon  is  almost  full  it  would  be 
still  more  crowded,  if  we  were  not  in  the  beginning  of  August, — 
of  Augustus  as  Monsieur  de  Voltaire  would  have  us  say. 
We  will  enter  and  endeavor  to  seize  a  few  words  from  the 
midst  of  this  heap  of  nothings  presenting  themselves  in  grave 
costume,  and  of  serious  questions  debated  in  trifling  tones. 

"  It  is  overwhelming ! — Come  Monsieur  de  la  Caille,*  tell 
us  something  more  about  it.  What  a  pity  that  Monsieur  de 
Fontenelle  should  be  dead  !" 

"  Why,  Madame  1" 

"  Because  he  was  the  only  person  who  could  tell  us  poor 
women  such  things  without  terrifying  us  too  much." 

"  Why  do  you  ask  us  about  them,  then  ?" 

"  Go  on, — malicious  !" 

"  Well !  It  is  just  as  I  had  the  honor  of  saying.  I  have 
calculated,  within  a  few  millions,  the  number  of  leagues  which 
separate  us  from  a  certain  star  which  I  have  been  studying  for 
a  long  time.  I  discovered — but  I  will  not  tell  you  the  num- 
ber. You  could  never  remember  it.  Listen.  Light  travels, 
I  told  you—" 

"  About  seventy  leagues  a  second." 

"Good.  How  long  a  time  then  do  you  imagine  was  re- 
quired for  my  star  to  become  visible  ?" 

"Six  months." 

"  Nonsense !" 

*  The  astronomer. 


TIIK     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  237 

"  Six  years !" 

"  Pooh !" 

"  How  long  then  2" 

"  More  than  nine  thousand  years."* 

"  Ah  !     Good  heavens !     I  shall  dream  of  that !" 

'*  Dream  of  it,  Madame,  indeed." 

"  Nine  thousand  years  !     And  seventy  leagues  a  second '" 

"  Nine  thousand  years.  There  may  be  stars  created  eighty 
centuries  ago,  which  we  have  never  yet  seen." 

"  Poor  Moses !" 

This  was  the  conclusion  which  was  drawn  from  all  the  dis- 
coveries of  the  age.  They  little  imagined  that  science  was  one 
day  to  make  peace  with  the  author  of  Genesis,  by  finding  in 
the  succinct  account  of  Moses,  so  sarcastically  spoken  of,  all  the 
most  exact  information  which  men  have  since  been  able  to  extort 
from  the  secrets  of  creation. 

"  Well !  So  the  beautiful  Madame  Baillet  at  length  consents 
to  allow  poor  d'Herbigny  to  love  her  ?" 

"  Yes  ?    And  who  told  you  so  T' 

"  He  himself." 

"Ha!  Ha!" 

"  D'Herbigny  is  no  boaster." 

"  Oh !  no." 

"  If  he  said  so,  it  was  because  it  is  true." 

"  It  was  true.'1'' 

"  What !     Is  it  no  longer  50  T 

"  It  never  has  been." 

"  I  cannot  comprehend." 

"  It  is  thus.  After  more  than  a  year  of  severity,  she  said  to 
him  one  fine  morning :  '  D'Herbigny,  I  want  your  portrait.' 
*  Much  larger 'calculations  have  since  been  made. 


238  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

He  was  immediately  in  the  clouds.  He  flies  to  an  artist. 
He  sits  six  hours  that  same  day,  six  hours  the  next.  In  two 
days  the  portrait  is  finished  and  framed.  He  hastens,  with 
his  likeness,  to  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  his  charmer. 
'  Perfect !'  she  exclaims ;  and  she  rings.  The  porter  makes 
his  appearance,  instead  of  the  waitingmaid.  '  Master  Pierre,' 
she  says,  '  here  is  what  I  promised  to  give  you.  Put  that  in 
your  lodge;  and  when  the  original  comes — you  will  recognize 
him,  will  you  not  ?'  '  Oh !  yes  Madame'  '  Tell  him  that  I  am 
not  at  home.' " 

"  Ah !  good  evening,  my  dear  Abbe,  good  evening !  So 
you  have  been  remembered  at  last  ?" 

"  At  last,  as  you  say." 

"  I  hope  it  is  at  least  a  fat  living,  since  you  were  allowed  to 
sigh  after  it  so  long  ?" 

"  fat,  no.  My  aspirations  never  rose  so  high.  It  is  what 
one  may  call  a  good  living." 

"  Six  or  seven  thousand  livres  income  1" 

"  About  ten." 

"  Ah,  ha !" 

"  I  tell  you  the  king  of  Prussia  is  a  madman." 

"  A  hero." 

"  A  hypocrite." 

"  A  wise  man." 

"A  tyrant." 

"  A  friend  of  mankind." 

"  A  robber  of  kingdoms — " 

'*  As  Caesar  was." 

"  A  scribbler  of  paper — " 

"  As  Marcus  Aurelius  was." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  239 

"  You  are  flattering  the  enemy  of  your  country." 

"  I  am  doing  justice  to  a  great  man." 

"  You  rejoice  at  his  successes." 

"  Because  they  are  triumphs  of  reason." 

"  Of  reason — with  cannon  balls !" 

"  You  would  prefer  thunder  bolts,  like  your  good  friends  of 
the  Vatican?" 

"  He  alone  has  lighted  more  fires — " 

"  Decidedly,  you  can  pardon  none  but  those  lighted  at  the 
stake." 

K  You  do  not  know  ? — " 

"  What  ?" 

"  That  the  abbe  de  Saint-Marcelin  has  a  living  at  last." 

"  Come,  come !" 

"  I  have  just  heard  him  say  so  himself.     A  good  one  he  said." 

"  Why  he  is  a  furious  encyclopedist." 

"  What  does  that  prove  1" 

"  It  proves  without  doubt  that  he  is  a  man  of  talent. 
But—" 

"  Is  it  not  better  that  this  living  should  profit  a  man  of 
talent,  than  that  it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  fool  V 

"  Yes.  I  perceive  a  time  is-  coming  when  the  first  qualifi- 
cation for  advancement  in  the  Church  will  be  not  to  believe  in 
God.  Here,  abbe !" 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Is  there  a  God  ?" 

"  Certainly — since  I  am  an  abbe." 

"Monsieur,  the  tradition  is  positive  and  unalterable.  It 
was  from  Montmatre  to  Saint-Denis,  where  the  abbey  now  is, 
that  the  saint  of  that  name  carried  his  head  in  his  hands." 


240  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"No,  Monsieur,  no.  Reason  does  not  admit  of  our  be- 
lieving  in  so  long  a  journey.  A  few  steps, — that  is  well 
authenticated.  Is  it  not  so,  Madame  la  marquise  ?" 

"  Why  so,  dear  councillor  1  It  is  only  the  first  step  which 
is  difficult," 

"  W.hat  is  going  on  at  Versailles  V* 
"  Nothing  of  importance." 
M  And  the  marquise  ?" 
"  More  in  favor  than  ever." 

"  But  they  say  that  the  king  appears  singularly  ennuye? 
"She  is  only  the  more  secure  for  that.     It  is  just  at  &uch 
times  that  he  leaves  everything  to  her." 
"A  great  fete  is  spoken  of,  at  Bellevue." 
"  Yes,  on  Tuesday." 
"  And  the  abbe  de  Narniers  T 
"  Remains  preacher  to  the  king." 
"  And  the  other, — he  is  still  to  preach  on  Monday  *?" 
"  On  Monday,  at  Saint-Sulpice." 
"  Good." 

"This  Monsieur  de  Buffon,  with  all  his  fine  style,  is  some 
times  so  vulgar,  that — " 

"  What  indignation,  Mademoiselle  !" 

"  Did  you  see  him  just  now,  beside  me  1  His  legs  crossed, 
his  head  thrown  back,  his  eyes  half  closed.  He  fancied  him- 
self alone,  apparently." 

"  He  was  hunting  out  some  phrase." 

"  Yes — wait.  I  tried  to  begin  a  conversation.  I  spoke  to 
him  of  his  style, — for  you  know  it  is  almost  impossible  to  talk 
to  him  of  anything  else.  '  What  a  happy  mingling,'  I  said, 
'  of  profundity  and  simplicity !'  And  Monsieur  leaned  him- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  241 

self  back  still  farther.  '  Oh !  the  devil !'  he  exclaimed,  '  oh  ! 
the  devil !  When  it  is  necessary  to  purify  one's  style,  that  is 
another  part  of  speech!'*  Another  part  of  speech!  An- 
other— " 

"  By  the  way,  is  it  true  that  he  never  writes  except  in  his 
sword  and  lace  ruffles  ?" 

"  I  fancy,  between  ourselves,  that  he  has  never  been  .seen  in 
those  famous  working  ruffles  ;  but — " 

"  But  he  is  capable  of  wearing  them." 

"  At  all  events,  he  might  at  least  put  them  on  when  he  has 
a  compliment  to  acknowledge." 

"Especially  a  compliment  from  Mademoiselle  de  1'Es- 
pinasse." 

"  You  flatter  me,  Monsieur." 

"  I  am  but  just.  Do  you  know  what  he  said  the  other  day 
to  a  friend  who  was  reading  to  him  some  of  his  verses  ?" 

"  No." 

" '  That  is  beautiful,'  he  cried,  '  beautiful — as  prose  !'  " 

"  Was  he  jesting  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,  it  is  his  system." 

"  We  shall  see  him  erect  a  statue  to  prose,  some  of  these 
days." 

"  To  his  own  prose." 

"  Monsieur,  if  the  taxes  should  be  reduced  one  half,  and  if 
the  strictest  economy  should  regulate  the  employment  of 
them,  still  we  would  never  pay  them  willingly,  if  the  farming 
of  the  revenues  be  still  insisted  upon.  So  long  as  the  people 
see  the  rich  intermediaries  between  themselves  and  the  public 
funds,  evidently  thriving  upon  the  sweat  of  their  brow,  you 

*  In  the  original,  (Test  une  autre  paire  de  matiches ;  literally,  It  it  an- 
other pair  of  sleeves.  A  vulgarism.  Tr. 


242  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

cannot  rid  them  of  the  feeling  that  it  is  for  these  people  they 
labor,  not  for  the  State.  Knowing  beforehand  what  the  State 
will  receive,  each  one  is  tempted  to  say, — every  one  in  the 
lower  classes  does  say, — that  what  he  has  paid  will  not  aug- 
ment the  sum  employed  for  public  expenses  by  a  sous.  Bad 
reasoning,  I  admit,  but  it  is  incontestibly  the  reasoning  of  a 
multitude,  and  that  is  enough  to  make  it  advisable  that  the 
pretext  should  be  done  away  with.  The  collecting  of  the 
taxes  ought  to  remain  in  the  hands  of  the  government,  and  the 
collector  should  have  a  fixed  salary  ;  the  poor  man  should  feel 
when  he  pays,  that  he  actually  pays  the  government,  and 
really  contributes  his  little  part  to  the  necessities  of  the  coun- 
try." 

"  Poor  Poinsinet  !*  Are  you  never  going  to  cease  laughing 
at  him,  vicomte  7" 

"  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  I  think  I  still  see  him  reciting  the  Breton 
verses  which  I  gave  him  as  Russian  !" 

"  He  has  a  good  deal  of  talent,  however." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  His  little  piece,  the  Cercle,  is  one  of  the 
prettiest  which  has  been  written  for  a  long  time.  But  he  has 
not  a  grain  of  common  sense.  The  merest  child  could  take 
him  in.  He  is  one  of  those  beings  born  to  be  mystified." 

"To  be  what 7" 

"Mystified." 

"  That  is  not  one  of  the  academy's  words,  so  far  as  I  know." 

"  I  should  think  not.  We  manufactured  it,  not  three  months 
ago,  in  honor  of  Poinsinet  himself;  and  the  academy  does  not 
enjoy  the  reputation  of  being  very  prompt." 

"  Hush !     There  is  Duclos  listening  to  us." 

"  Duclos  has  too  much  sense  not  to  think  as  we  do.  Is  it 
*  The  dramatic  author. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV  243 

not  true,  Duclos,  that  the  academy  is  not  very  quick  in  its 
movements  ?" 

"  Make  haste  slowly" 

"Yes, — but  by  going  too  slowly,  you  may  break  your 
necks, — in  public  opinion." 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,  however." 

"  No,  to  be  sure  not.  It  is  well  known  that  you  push  the 
car  on.  You  swear,  in  the  very  Louvre,  loud  enough  to  shake 
the  colonnade." 

"I?     Who  says  so?" 

"  Oh,  your  colleagues — everybody." 

"Ah!  the  hounds !— ah !  the—" 

"  Hush  now !  We  are  not  at  the  Louvre.  See  him  going 
to  swear,  in  order  to  prove  that  he  never  swears !  You  would 
have  been  the  very  man  for  cardinal  Dubois." 

"Much  obliged." 

"  Why  not  1  At  the  least  contradiction,  he  swore,  as  you 
know,  at  the  top  of  his  voice ;  he  threw  away  a  great  deal  of 
precious  time  at  it.  One  of  his  secretaries  asked  him  if  he 
would  not  do  well  to  have  a  swearer  general?" 

"  The  place  would  be  almost  as  good  as  that  of  screen  to  the 
king." 

"  Screen  to  the  king !" 

*  Y^s.  Another  mystification, — begging  pardon  for  the 
word, — which  we  made  Poinsinet  swallow.  We  told  him  he 
had  just  been  selected  for  this  brilliant  situation.  Two  days 
afterwards,  when  we  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  we  heard  that 
he  was  ill ;  and  from  what, — do  you  imagine  ?  From  having 
broiled  his  legs  by  standing  before  an  infernally  hot  fire,  in 
order,  as  he  said,  to  accustom  himself  to  his  new  duty." 

"  I  tremble,  Madame,  lest  you  should  think  me  presuming." 


244  EABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Say  on." 

"  The  charming  letter  which  you  said  you  had  received  from 

Monsieur  de  Voltaire — " 
"Well?" 

"  Might  one  dare  to  beg  for  a  sight  of  it  ?" 
"  If  you  will  promise  me  to  show  it  to  no  one." 
"To  no  one, — except  those  who  charged  me  with  the  petition." 
"  Ah !     It  is  a  deputation,  then,  which  I  receive  ?" 
"  A  deputation,  as  you  say.     Here  are  Chamfort  and  Saint 

Lambert,  who  have  been  charged  to  support  my  request.    This 

letter—" 

"  See,  here  it  is.     But  be  prudent.     Let  none  hear  it,  you 

understand,  save  friends.     There  are  certain  things — " 

"  Do  not  be  uneasy,  Madame.     Here,  Messieurs.     Here — 

in  the  small  saloon — " 
"  Read,  Saint  Lambert." 

" '  FERNET,  July  25,  1760. 

" '  The  eloquent  Cicero,  Madame,  without  whom  no  French- 
man can  think,  always  commenced  his  letters  with  these 
words :  "  If  you  are  well,  I  am  rejoiced  at  it ;  as  for  myself,  I 
am  well." 

" '  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  quite  the  opposite  of  Cicero. 
If  you  are  ill,  I  am  grieved  at  it ;  as  for  myself,  I  am  ill. 
Happily,  I  have  made  myself  a  nest  in  which  I  can  live  or  die 
according  to  my  own  fancy.  I  have  purchased  estates  around 
my  hermitage;  I  have  enlarged  my  sepulchre.  If  I  dared,  I 
should  fancy  myself  wise,  I  am  so  happy.  I  have  really  lived 
only  since  the  day  when  I  selected  this  retreat.  Any  other 
sort  of  life  would  now  be  insupportable  to  me.  Paris  is 
essential  to  you ;  to  me  it  would  be  death. 

" '  Would  to  heaven,  Madame,  that  you  could  live  as  I  do, 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  215 

and  that  your  charming  society  might  augment  my  happiness. 
I  congratulate  you  and  Monsieur  the  president  Henault  upon 
being  frequently  together,  and  being  able  mutually  to  console 
one  another  for  the  absurdities  of  this  world. 

" '  You  wish  me  to  send  you  the  works  with  which  I  employ 
myself  when  I  neither  plough  nor  sow.  In  fact,  I  scarcely 
know  how  I  shall  dare  do  so,  I  have  become  so  bold  with  age. 
I  can  no  longer  write  what  I  think  ;  and  I  think  so  freely,  that 
it  is  scarcely  probable  I  can  send  my  ideas  by  post.  I  shall 
have  the  honor,  however,  to  send  you  one  or  two  new  cantos 
of  Tlie  Maid  of  Orleans,  which  no  one  has  seen  as  yet.  If  you 
want  a  picture  of  this  ugly  world,  you  may  find  one  shortly  in 
my  Universal  History  of  the  follies  of  the  human  race.  I  have 
also  set  to  work  to  render  an  account  to  myself,  in  alphabetical 
order,  of  all  that  I  am  to  think  about  this  world  and  the  next, — 
for  my  own  use,  and  perhaps,  after  my  death,  for  the  use  of 
good  people.  I  think  I  shall  call  it  Philosophical  Dictionary. 

" '  The  semi-freedom  with  which  people  in  France  are  be- 
ginning to  write,  is  still  nothing  but  a  disgraceful  chain.  Ac- 
cordingly, you  must  accustom  yourself  to  a  dearth  of  talents 
of  every  kind, — to  smartness  grown  common,  and  genius  rare ; 
— to  a  perfect  deluge  of  books  on  war,  only  to  be  beaten  after- 
wards,— on  finance,  only  to  lack  money  as  much  as  ever, — on 
population,  only  to  be  still  in  want  of  husbandmen  and  recruits, 
— in  short,  on  all  the  arts,  only  to  succeed  in  none. 

" '  W«  have,  in  fact,  no  native  inventions.  In  the  arts,  we 
are  silly  savages  compared  with  the  Italians.  In  philosophy, 
we  have  learned  a  little  that  was  good  from  the  English, 
scarcely  thirty  years  since. 

" '  The  Spaniards  have  conquered  a  new  world  ;  the  Portu- 
guese have  discovered  the  way  to  *:he  Indies ;  the  Arabs  and 
Turks  have  founded  powerful  empires ;  my  friend  the  czar 


246  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

Peter  has  formed  an  empire  of  two  thousand  leagues  extent  in 
twenty  years;  and  the  Scythians  of  my  empress  Elizabeth 
have  beaten  my  good  Prussian  king, — while  our  armies  are 
routed  by  the  peasants  of  Wolfenbiittel. 

" '  We  have  been  so  clever  as  to  establish  ourselves  in  the 
snows  of  Canada,  among  bears  and  beavers ;  while  the  English 
have  peopled  four  hundred  leagues  of  the  most  beautiful  coun- 
try in  the  world  with  their  flourishing  colonies, — and  we  suffer 
ourselves  even  to  be  chased  out  of  Canada. 

" '  We  build  also,  from  time  to  time,  a  few  vessels  for  the 
English ;  but  we  build  them  badly.  When  they  condescend 
to  capture  them,  they  complain  that  we  give  them  miserable 
sailers. 

" '  Upon  my  honor,  our  age  is  a  miserable  age ! 

" '  You  ask  me  what  you  will  find  the  most  interesting  to 
read.  Read  the  gazettes,  Madame :  everything  in  them  is 
marvellous  as  a  romance.  One  reads  of  vessels  loaded  with 
Jesuits ;  and  one  never  wearies  of  wondering  why  they  are 
driven  out  of  only  one  kingdom  as  yet.  One  reads  of  the 
French  being  beaten  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe, — of  our 
ministers  bundled  out  of  office  one  after  the  other, — of  our  flat 
boats, — and  of  our  descents — down  the  river  of  La  Vilaine. 
One  reads — 

" '  But  you  say  you  want  to  read  something  else  besides  ga- 
zettes. Well,  I  will  mention  all  that  may  possibly  amuse 
you.  There,  for  instance,  is  Infidelity  opposed  by — common 
sense,  by  dear  brother  Menon,  the  confessor  of  king  Stanislas ; 
or  the  Reconciliation  of  the  understanding  with  religion, — the 
Norman  reconciliation,  as  some  call  it, — by  bishop  Pompignan, 
brother  of  the  academician  Pompignan,  or  the —  But  you  live 
in  the  midst  of  these  fine  things,  and  it  is  rather  for  you  to 
send  them  to  me. 


TITE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  217 

"  '  And  yet  there  is  one  pleasure  greatly  to  be  preferred  to 
all  this  ;  it  is  to  watch  the  wide-spreading  meadows  becoming 
green,  and  the  great  harvests  ripening  slowly. 

" '  I  beg  your  pardon,  Madame,  for  speaking  to  you  of  a 
pleasure  which  is  enjoyed  by  one's  eyes  alone.  You  no  longer 
know  any  enjoyment  save  that  of  the  intellect. 

" '  Apropos,  have  you  a  good  digestion  1  I  have  become 
sensible,  after  much  reflection  upon  this  best  of  worlds,  and 
upon  the  small  number  of  the  elect,  that  one  is  never  truly  un- 
happy so  long  as  one  has  a  good  digestion.  After  all,  the  only 
thing  is  to  end  one's  career  comfortably.  All  the  rest  is 
vanity  of  vanities,  as  somebody  says. 

" '  Accept  my  tender  respects.  V.' " 

"Well,  Monsieur  de  la  Condamine,  and  our  convulsion- 
airesf 

"  Most  extraordinary." 

"  You  are  going  to  tell  us  about  them,  are  you  not  ?" 

"  If  you  choose. — But  hush !  There  is  Monsieur  de  Faillet, 
who  was  there — " 

"  As  a  spectator  ?" 

"  As  a  believer,  no  offence  to  you.  Let  us  go  a  little  fur- 
ther off. — Good.  Well,  upon  this  occasion,  sister  Francoise 
was  to  be  crucified." 

«  To  be—" 

"  Crucified, — positively, — I  swear  to  you.  A  real  cross, — 
good,  strong  nails.  Ah,  my  hands  and  feet  hurt  me,  when- 
ever 1  think  of  what  I  saw.  They  pretend  that  they  do  not 
suffer,  and  that,  according  to  them,  is  the  great  miracle." 

"  Who  knows  ?" 

"  Who  knows  1 — I  should  like  to  see  you  try  it !  To  be 
sure  it  is  not  impossible  thai  the  pain  yields  a  little  to  faith, 


248  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

but  sister  Franchise  suffered  horribly,  I  promise  you,  although 
she  might  not  choose  to  proclaim  it.     Although  she  did  not 
cry  out,  she  made  grimaces  enough  to  prove  it." 
"  And  the  executioner,  \vho — " 

"The  executioner, — no,  the  assistant,  (secouriste,)  as  they 
call  him,  in  their  cant  language,  for  all  the  knick-knacks, 
nails,  swords,  kicks,  and  so  on,  they  call  assistance,  (secours) — 
the  assistant  was  Father  Cottu,  of  the  Oratoire,  aided  by  Fa- 
ther Guidi,  a  tall,  thin  man, -with  goggles,  who  exhausted  him- 
self in  assuring  the  patient  that  the  nails  did  not  incommode 
her." 

"  And  what  did  the  patient  say  ?" 

"  She  deafened  us  all  with  declamations  in  a  language  which 
I  did  not  understand,  upon  the  evils  of  the  Church,  they  in- 
formed me,  and  on  the  future  reign  of  the  saints." 

"And  the  saints  rubbed  their  hands,  in  the  mean  time?" 
"No ;  they  rubbed  hers,  with  a  certain  water  of  Saint  Paris, 
their  patron,  which  has  the  virtue,  they  say,  of  causing  all  pain 
to  disappear." 

"  And  how  long  did  all  this  last  f 
"  More  than  three  hours." 

"  And  who  was  there  besides  Monsieur  de  Faillet  '* 
"  Monsieur  de  Merinville,  his  parliamentary  colleague,  Mon- 
sieur de  Janson,  an  officer  in  the  mousquetaires,  Monsieur  de 
la  Tour-du-pin,  Monsieur  de  Lafont-Saint-Yenne,  who  went 
down  upon  his  knees,  from  time  to  time,  bathed  in  tears — a 
few  others,  besides."* 

"  And  I  tell  you  that  Monsieur  de  Voltaire  jests  when  he 
pretends  to  believe  in  the  prodigious  antiquity  of  the  Chinese 

*  Monsieur  de  la  Condamine  afterwards  wrote  an  account  of  all  that  he 
had  witnessed  in  these  strange  assemblies. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  2  £9 

and  the  Hindoos.  No  man  ever  lied  as  he  does.  And  his  ad- 
miration for  Confucius,  of  whom  scarcely  anything  is  known ! 
And  his  adoration  of  Julian  the  Apostate,  of  whom  only  too 
much  is  known  !  And  his  mania  for  asserting  that  the  early 
Christians  were  scarcely  persecuted  at  all !  Do  you  imagine 
that  he  believes  all  this  ridiculous  or  abominable  stuff  that  he 
puts  forth  in  his  pamphlets  ?" 

"  Not  all  of  it,  I  know ;  but  perhaps  more  of  it  than  one 
would  think.  By  dint  of  repeating  it,  he  impresses  it  upon  his 
mind,  and  then — " 

"  I  understand.  By  dint  of  lying,  he  becomes  at  last  sin- 
cere. Really  a  sublime  method  of  employing  speech  and 
reason !" 

"  Just  as  you  please ;  but  the  antiquity  of  the  Hindoos  is 
nevertheless — " 

"  Again  ! — Well,  let  us  ask  Monsieur  de  Gebelin. — Ah  !  he 
was  here  just  now.  What  has  become  of  him  ?" 

"  He  is  yonder, — see,  in  that  corner." 

"  But  who  is  it  that  he  is  talking  with  ]" 

"  It  is  a  face  I  do  not  know." 


LIU. 

RABAUT      AND      GEBELIN. 

We  have  long  known  this  face,  which  was  new  to  the  de- 
fender of  Monsieur  de  Voltaire  and  his  ancient  Hindoos. 
Gebelin's  companion  was  Rabaut. 

He  had  desired  more  closely  to  observe  this  brilliant  so- 
ciety, whose  scintillations  dazzled  all  Europe,  whose  least 
whispers  imposed  silence  upon  the  past,  and  seemed  to  open 
the  future.  Gebelin,  who  was  received  everywhere,  had  taken 


250  RARAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

him  wherever  he  could  see  without  being  too  much  seen,  hear 
without  being  obliged  to  talk,  and  judge  without  speaking. 

They  had  retired  into  a  corner,  from  whence  they  passed  in 
review  all  that  the  current  of  the  saloon  was  causing  to  come 
before  their  eyes. 

"  That  man,"  said  Gebelin,  "  whom  you  heard  deciding  upon 
the  antiquity  of  the  Hindoos,  is  one  of  those  learned  sheep 
who  would  deny  the  sun  at  noon,  if  Monsieur  de  Voltaire 
thought  fit  to  deny  it.  His  adversary  is  an  old  Jansenist." 

"  I  had  fancied,"  said  Eabaut,  "  that  I  should  see  none  but 
infidels  here." 

"  I  said  Jansenist,  take  notice ;  I  did  not  say  believer.  The 
Jansenism  of  the  present  day  is  often  nothing  more  than  a 
decent  sort  of  infidelity.  Many  are  Jansenists,  just  as  others 
are  infidels,  from  fashion,  from  opposition ;  many,  while  they 
are  avowed  infidels,  belong  nominally  to  the  different  religious 
parties.  '  You  are  persecuted,'  said  Boindin  to  one  of  his 
friends,  '  because  you  are  a  Jansenist  atheist ;  but  I  am  left  in 
quietness,  because  I  am  a  Molinist  atheist.' 

"  In  that  group,  yonder,  you  may  recognize  several  of  our 
friends  of  the  other  day,  d'Holbach,  Damilaville,  d'Alembert, 
Grimm." 

"AndHelvetius?" 

"He  has  received  official  orders  not  to  show  himself  for 
several  days." 

"And  Diderot ?" 

"He  speaks  his  mind  too  plainly.  Madame  du  Defiant 
hinted  that  she  could  dispense  with  his  company.  He  comes 
every  now  and  then,  in  order  not  to  seem  banished ;  and  in- 
deed he  is  not  banished ;  but  he  himself  prefers  having  more 
elbow-room  than  he  generally  has  here.  The  marquise  is 
willing  enough  to  be  an  infidel,  but  not  to  break  with  religion. 


TITE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  2  "1 1 

Indeed,  she  has  once  or  twice  attempted  to  turn  devotee ;  for 
you  know  that  there  is  no  medium,  among  the  Catholics  of  the 
higher  classes,  between  high  devotion,  as  they  call  it,  and  infi- 
delity. '  I  am  ennuyee  half  to  death,  she  said  to  her  associates. 
*  Shall  I  not  try  a  little  of  everything  V  They  laughed ;  and  at 
last  she  laughed  also.  '  I  will  wait  until  I  am  a  little  older,' 
she  said.  So  she  is  waiting." 

"  And  how  old  is  she,  then ?" 

"Sixty-two  or  sixty-three." 

"  Who  is  that  old  gentleman,  who  pays  her  such  assiduous 
attention?" 

"  The  comte  de  Pont-de-Veyle,  her  lover." 

"  Ah !" 

"  At  least  he  has  held  that  situation  for  a  long  time.  No- 
thing can  be  more  innocent,  for  that  matter,  than  their  relations. 
In  a  certain  set,  a  lover  is  looked  upon  as  a  necessary  piece  of 
furniture.  A  slight  varnish  of  scandal  is  absolutely  necessary, 
although  there  may  not  be  the  slightest  inclination  for  it.  It 
is  in  order  to  set  off  the  reputation,  one  might  fancy,  just  as 
patches  set  off  the  complexion.  '  Do  you  not  wonder,'  said 
Pont-de-Veyle  to  her  lately,  'how  we  have  contrived  to  live 
thirty  years  without  a  single  falling  out?'  'My  dear,'  she 
said,  '  it  is  because  we  have  never  loved  each  other.'  And  yet 
it  was  she  who  reproached  Monsieur  de  Fontenelle  with  never 
having  loved  any  one.  '  It  is  not  a  heart  that  you  have  here,' 
she  said,  touching  his  breast  with  her  finger ;  '  it  is  a  second 
brain  !'  I  thought  for  a  long  time  that  the  same  thing  might 
be  said  of  her ;  but  it  appears  that  an  Englishman,  lord  Wai- 
pole — 'r 

"  The  same  who  was  lately  in  Paris  ?" 

"  Yes." 


252  R  ABA  FT     AND     B  RID  A  INK,     OR 

"  She  knew  him,  then,  in  her  youth  ?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  she  has  fallen  distractedly  in  love  with  him  in 
her  sixtieth  year.  He  laughed  at  her ;  he  went  so  far  as  to 
say  to  her,  in  a  letter  since  become  public,  that  he  wired  little 
at  forty,  to  be  the  lover  of  a  woman  of  sixty.  She  persists  ;  it 
is  asserted  that  she  writes  to  him  in  the  tenderest  style.  But 
the  most  curious  part  of  the  matter  is,  that  the  public  do  not 
laugh.  Madame  du  Defiant  is  the  fashion ;  Madame  du  Def- 
iant is  the  patroness  of  the  formers  of  public  opinion ;  that  is 
enough ;  she  has  the  right  to  be  an  old  fool,  without  any  one 
venturing  to  laugh  or  to  stare.  Then,  mark  well,  it  is  for  an 
Englishman  that  she  sighs ;  and  the  surest  way,  in  these  days, 
to  be  popular  in  France,  is  not  to  be  French.  All  the  men 
whom  you  see  here,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three,  are  in 
love  with  the  king  of  Prussia.  How,  then,  could  they  blame 
the  mistress  of  the  house  for  being  in  love  with  a  noble  lord,  a 
man  of  talent,  and  tolerably  well  versed  in  the  ideas  of  the 
day?  This  last  point,  as  you  may  well  think,  is  the  indis- 
pensable one.  Out  of  infidelity,  there  is  no  salvation.  The 
reason  why  they  so  cry  up  the  king  of  Prussia,  is  not  that  he 
is  an  able  writer, — for  in  regard  to  this  they  laugh  slyly, 
indeed  sometimes  even  loudly ; — nor  because  of  his  liberal 
political  ideas,  from  which  it  is  well  known  that  his  subjects 
derive  no  benefit ; — absolutely,  the  only  reason  is  his  infidelity. 
His  advancement,  they  assert,  is  the  progress  of  reason.  What 
do  they  mean  by  that  ?  Is  it  for  infidelity  that  he  fights  ? 
Does  he  impose  upon  his  vanquished  enemies  the  obligation 
to  be  infidels?  No.  But  he  is  one  himself;  that  is  enough. 
All  his  enterprises  must  be  proper ;  the  French  will  be  en- 
chanted with  all  the  harm  which  he  may  do  them  ;  and  the 
only  verses  which  Monsieur  d'Alembert  ever  made  in  his  life 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  253 

were  in  his  praise.*  It  is  the  most  odious  piece  of  folly  ever 
shown  by  any  people. 

"  Another  of  the  passions  for  the  English,  is  that  of  Made- 
moiselle de  1'Espinasse.  It  is  true  that  Sterne,  her  hero,  is  a 
grave  churchman,  to.  whom  I  do  not  suppose  she  says  tender 
things ;  but  she  is  infatuated  with  his  book,  and  it  will  not  be 
her  fault  if  all  our  writers  do  not  set  to  work  to  make  Senti- 
mental journies. 

"  The  count  de  Buffon,  whom  I  pointed  out  to  you  just  now, 
beside  her,  is  the  type  of  the  aristocratic  writer.  Few  reputa- 
tions are  less  disputed  than  his.  It  is  asserted  that  Rousseau, 
who  always  runs  into  extremes,  one  day  kissed  the  threshold 
of  his  cabinet.  He  has  a  right  to  be  proud  of  his  works ;  but 
his  pride  is  frequently  undignified  ;  it  somewhat  resembles  that 
of  a  parvenu  who  thinks  too  much  of  his  title,  or  of  a  man 
lately  become  rich,  and  continually  dreaming  of  his  money. 
The  moment  he  condescends,  he  easily  becomes  low, — almost 
gross.  He  is  accused  of  lacking  a  due  appreciation  of  the 
talents  of  his  fellow  authors.  Two  of  them,  Daubenton  and 
Gueneau,  are  now  talking  to  him.  See  how  ha  Jghtily  he  holds 
his  head,  and  how  he  plants  himself  between  them,  with  his 
gold-buckled  shoes. 

"  You  heard  Monsieur  de  La  Caille.  He  is  one  of  the  first 
astronomers  of  the  age ;  always  calculating,  always  making 
discoveries,  philosophizing  but  little,  and  working  all  the  better 
for  it.  There  is  his  colleague,  Clairault,  a  little  too  much  in- 
clined to  quit  the  heavens  for  earthly  discussions ;  which  is,  I 

*  "  Father  and  monarch, — valiant  and  wise, 

He  knows  how  to  conquer,  to  reign  and  advise. 

A  hero  he  is,  e'en  when  fallen  he  lies; 

But  risen,  he  puts  forth  his  genius  and  ire, 

And  sees  all  Europe  arise, 

To  combat,  but  more  to  admire." 


254  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

suspect,  the  fault  of  his  disciple,  Bailly,  also, — a  great  admirer 
of  the  ancient  republics.  Clairault  is  none  the  less  a  very  great 
mathematician.  Last  year's  comet,  whose  appearance  he  had 
predicted,  contributed  equally  to  make  him  renowned  among 
the  learned,  and  fashionable  among  the  ladies.  He  is  now 
talking  to —  But  why  does  that  lady  scream  ?  Ah !  I  under- 
stand. He  must  have  opened  his  snuff-box — " 

"  Who  ?" 

"  M.  de  Lalande,  whom  I  was  about  to  point  out  to  you. 
Spiders  are  his  passion — " 

"  He  tames  them  ?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  he  eats  them.  That  box,  which  he  calls  his 
snuff-box,  is  full  of  them.  He  has  just  taken  one  out.  See, — 
he  pulls  off  the  claws,  and  sucks  them.  He  says  nothing  can 
be  more  juicy.  He  is  a  good-hearted  man,  but  an  incurable 
atheist. 

"  The  group  who  were  talking  of  taxes,  is  the  party  of  po- 
litical economists.  There  is  young  Necker,  of  whom  I  spoke 
to  you  the  other  day.  There,  too,  is  his  friend  Turgot,  a  wise 
thinker,  but  a  great  talker, — not  so  great,  however,  as  the 
crabbed  Marquis  de  Mirabeau,  who  would  doubtless  be  here, 
if  he  were  not  in  the  Bastile,  whither  he  was  sent  on  account 
of  his  Theory  of  Taxation.  There  is  Morellet,  who,  as  you 
know,  has  just  been  liberated.  He  excels  in  setting  forth 
clearly,  the  somewhat  confused  ideas  of  his  companions  in  po- 
litical economy.  It  is  quite  a  new  science.  Its  founders,  to 
begin  with  Quesnay,  are  still  very  far  from  having  fixed  its 
foundations,  or  even  from  having  determined  its  field.  These 
gentlemen  sometimes  do  me  the  honor  to  request  some  infor- 
mation from  me  in  regard  to  the  former  manner  of  carrying  on 
these  affairs ;  they  always  come  to  the  conclusion,  sometimes 
with  a  little  pomposity,  but  often  with  too  much  reason,  that 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  255 

there  has  never  been  so    badly  governed  a  country  in  the 
world. 

"  As  for  literary  men,  authors,  properly  speaking,  all  whom 
I  have  not  yet  mentioned  to  you,  belong  to  their  ranks,  or 
wish  to  belong  to  them.  There  is  young  La  Harpe,  to  whom 
two  prizes  in  rhetoric  have  opened  a  literary  career,  and  who 
is  working  at  a  tragedy,  Warwick,  which  his  friends  commend- 
highly.  There  is  young  Chamfort,  renowned  for  his  successes 
at  college, — already  a  bold  talker,  much  sought  after,  but  little 
liked.  Two  others,  less  sought  after,  but  much  better  liked, 
are  now  speaking  to  him.  One  is  Corlardeau,  still  quite 
crushed  by  the  failure  of  his  Caliste  ;  the  other  is  Saurin,  who 
has  met  with  more  than  one  failure,  but  who  will  soon  retrieve 
these,  it  is  said,  by  his  Spartocus.  There,  at  the  corner  of  the 
mantel,  stands  Barthe,  an  original  thinker,  but  a  weak  poet,  to 
say  nothing  more  ;  and  there  is  Suard,  one  of  those  men  who 
attain  a  certain  reputation,  without  any  one  knowing  well  why 
or  how  ;  and  there  Saint  Lambert,  whom  Madame  du  Defiant 
called  '  cold,  insipid,  and  false,'  but  who  is  in  such  high  favor 
at  Ferney,  that  he  is  well  received  everywhere.  He  is  rich, 
moreover,  and  has  taken  to  enacting  the  Mecaenas,  as  you  may 
perceive  from  his  air.  The  man  to  whom  he  is  speaking  at 
this  moment,  is  Chabanon,  formerly  a  bigot,  now  an  encyclo- 
pedist. 

"  The  two  who  are  talking  at  the  other  corner,  are  also  two 
of  our  patrons  of  literature,  the  marquis,  de  Chastellux,  and 
the  duke  de  Nivernais  ;  the  marquis,  amiable  and  unpretend- 
ing, the  duke,  aspiring  to  authorship,  writing  a  little  upon  all 
subjects,  never  beyond  mediocrity,  but  always  praised.  He 
was  a  moment  ago  with  president  Renault,  talking  of  the  his- 
tory of  France,  now  he  is  talking  to  Vanloo,  the  king's  painter, 
talking,  doubtless,  of  art ;  and  what  he  says  to  them  this  even- 


2">6  RABAUT     AND     B  RID  A  INK,     OR 

ing,  he  will  write  to-morrow,  to  be  published  the  next  day. 
The  gentleman  just  coming  up  is  the  count  d'Argental,  the 
particular  friend  and  confidant  of  Monsieur  de  Voltaire,  the 
only  man  whom  he  is  known  to  consult  in  regard  to  his  works. 
That  will  explain  to  you  sufficiently,  I  imagine,  why  he  is  so 
surrounded  with  respect  and  admiration.  The  confidant,  the 
adviser,  the  oracle !  He  has  no  equal  in  Europe,  some  one 
remarked,  save  the  pope's  confessor. 

"  Then  as  for  the  abbes,  you  see  there  is  no  lack  of  them, 
all  excelling  in  putting  their  livery  to  shame,  some  by  their 
infidelity,  some  by  their  immorality,  many  by  both  at  once. 
You  have  there  the  abbe  de  Voisenon,  the  great  opera  maker ; 
there  is  the  abbe  Raynal,  the  Diderot  of  abbes.  There  are 
several  more,  the  abbe  de  Saint-Non,  the  abbe  d'Ardigny,  and 
the  abbe  de  Saint-Marcclin,  so  proud  of  his  living,  and  so  aston- 
ished that  he  was  obliged  to  wait  for  it  so  lojig,  as  if  the  abbe  de 
Bernis,  who  came  here  so  often,  had  not  just  been  made  cardi- 
nal, and  as  if  it  were  necessary  after  all,  that  an  abbe  should 
believe  in  God !  The  abbe  d'Argenteuil,  who  is  a  believer, 
took  it  into  his  head  to  convert  Diderot.  He  was  laughed  at, 
and  we  have  never  seen  him  here  since. 

"  Among  the  Jansenists,  in  spite  of  what  I  said  to  you  about 
them,  we  have  some  who  exert  themselves  vigorously  to  be- 
come true  believers.  Did  you  hear  those  two  gentlemen,  who 
so  honestly  discussed  the  legend  of  Saint-Denis  1  Well,  one 
of  them  is  a  man  of  no  intellect ;  but  the  other  is  Monsieur  de 
la  Chalotais  the  attorney-general,  and  enemy  of  the  Jesuits. 
Thus  act  and  think  the  greater  part  of  the  prominent  men 
among  them.  They  resist  the  instructions  of  the  Church,  and 
put  entire  faith  in  the  most  miserable  superstitions.  The 
deacon  Paris,  as  you  heard,  has  still  more  than  one  disciple. 
The  pol'ce  is  perpetually  on  the  look-out  for  these  meetings 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XT.  257 

wnere  kicks  and  blows,  say  the  adepts,  do  no  injury,  so  greatly 
does  God  delight  in  glorifying  his  saints.  And  when  one  of 
them  is  discovered,  some  man  is  sure  to  be  found  there  whose 
position  and  intelligence  would  have  precluded  all  supposition 
that  he  could  participate  in  these  follies. 

"  Yet  it  is  among  the  Jansenists  that  we  are  to  seek  the  few 
true  Christians, — with  two  or  three  exceptions, — which  the 
Church  of  Rome  still  numbers  in  France.  In  vain  she  casts 
them  off;  they  do  more  for  her  than  any  others." 

"  In  the  opinion  of  the  ignorant,"  said  Rabaut.  "  But  is 
their  Catholicity  really  such  1  The  Jesuits  whom  they  pro- 
scribe are  the  only  true  consistent  Catholics.  It  ought  to  be 
easy  to  make  them  confess  this." 

"  Easy,  you  say  ?"  resumed  Gebelin.  "  I  have  tried  it  a 
hundred  times ;  a  hundred  times  have  I  convinced  myself  that 
we  must  not  depend  upon  reason,  even  when  we  have  to  deal 
with  the  most  reasonable  of  mankind.  One  might  imagine 
that  in  all  false  and  logically  untenable  positions,  there  must 
be  a  certain  charm  which  induces  people  to  persist  in  defend- 
ing them.  The  mind  sets  to  work  to  find  explanations, 
distinctions,  pretexts.  It  feels  the  pleasure  of  difficulties  con- 
quered, the  pride  of  travelling  in  a  path  different  from  the 
common  highways,  it  feels — how  do  I  know  what  ?  People 
do  not  explain  to  themselves  clearly  what  they  feel,  but  they 
persist,  and  their  opponent  has  his  trouble  for  his  pains.  Add 
to  that,  in  these  questions  the  immense  stride  which  would 
have  to  bf  made,  if  they  concluded  to  carry  out  their  consist- 
ency. The  Gallican  who  should  confess  himself  no  Catholic, 
would  have  nothing  more  to  do  than  to  declare  himself  a  Pro- 
testant. He  might  retain  some  of  the  Romish  doctrines ;  but 
he  would  retain  them  as  we  do  ours,  claiming  the  right  to  re- 
ject them,  as  soon  as  he  considers  them  as  contrary  to  Scrip- 


258  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

ture  and  to  his  own  conscience.  In  fact  there  are  few  Catho- 
lics who  do  not  use  this  right.  It  is  already  a  proof  that  it  has 
been  employed,  and  largely,  too,  when  a  man  calls  himself  a 
Gallican,  or  a  Jansenist ;  but  to  acknowledge  and  proclaim  it, 
is  quite  another  thing.  This  terrifies  him,  he  recoils,  he  looks 
back,  he  slumbers  once  more.  Would  you  like  me  to  make 
another  trial  1" 

"  On  Monsieur  de  la  Chalotais  ?" 

"  No ;  on  Monsieur  de  Faillet,  whom  I  see  yonder,  one  of 
the  mosi  pious  and  sincere — in  short,  the  best  Catholic  among 
all  the  frequenters  of  the  house.  You  shall  see  with  what  an 
air  of  pity  he  presses  my  hand,  and  how  his  look  seems  to  say, 
'  Poor  creatures !  lost,  damned !'  " 

"  Very  charitable,  certainly ;  but  how,  then,  can  he  remain 
under  the  same  roof  with  some  of  these  other  gentlemen1? 
Does  he  believe  that  we  are  more  lost  or  damned  than  a 
d'Alembert  or  a  d'Holbach?" 

"  In  reality,  no ;  but  as  soon  as  these  things  are  brought  up, 
he  cannot  help  thinking  a  great  deal  more  of  us  than  of  them. 
They  are  lost  sheep,  about  which  no  one  any  longer  troubles 
himself;  but  we  are  only  straying  sheep.  Monsieur  de  Faillet 
and  his  companions  treat  us  on  a  small  scale,  just  as  the  gov- 
ernment on  a  large.  If  we  are  Christians  otherwise  than  the 
king  wills,  we  must  go  to  the  galleys ;  we  must  cease  to  be 
Christians  at  all,  if  we  would  be  left  in  peace.  To  be  sure,  this 
is  but  one  of  the  forms  of  the  universal  want  of  order  which 
prevails.  The  narrower  the  chasm  separating  two  parties,  the 
greater  is  the  antipathy,  the  more  violent  the  warfare.  '  But 
he  is  a  Jansenist !'  said  Louis  XV.  one  day.  '  He,  sire !  It  is 
not  even  certain  that  he  believes  in  God.'  '  So  much  the  bet- 
ter !'  said  the  king ;  and  he  grants  to  the  infidel  the  favor  which 
he  would  have  refused  to  the  Jansenist.  And  thus  proceed 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  259 

these  same  Jansenists  as  soon  as  we  come  under  discussion. 
We  are  the  horror  of  the  more  violent  of  them ;  and  the  char- 
itable ones  pity  us.  Stay, — see  how  our  friend  has  just  pressed 
Grimm's  hand.  They  almost  embraced  each  other.  They 
whisper  together.  But  he  is  coming  this  way." 

LIV. 

HUGUENOT     AND     JANSENIBT. 

"  Ah !  good  evening,  Monsieur  de  Faillet !"  said  Gebelin,  as 
if  he  had  just  perceived  him. 

"  Good  evening,  my  dear  sir !  good  evening !" 

Rabaut  could  not  help  smiling.  The  tone,  the  grasp  of  the 
hand,  the  look,  everything,  in  short,  was  just  what  Gebelin 
had  predicted. 

"What  was  Monsieur  Grimm  saying  to  you  just  now?" 
asked  Gebelin.  "  He  had  a  most  triumphant  air." 

"  As  he  always  has,  the  wretch,  when  he  thinks  he  can  enrage 
me." 

"  Some  impiety,  doubtless  ?" 

"  A  jest.     He  is  really  very  witty." 

"  How  well  you  seem  to  bear  it !" 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"  You  would  not  endure  a  grave  Protestant  discussion  so 
quietly." 

"  Monsieur !" 

"  Is  it  perhaps  because  you  are  more  afraid  of  the  latter  f 

"Afraid!" 

"Or  because  you  concern  yourself  less  about  G-xl  than 
about  the  mass  ]" 


200  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"I  concern  myself  both  about  God  and  about  the  mass, 
Monsieur." 

"  Very  good." 

"  And  I  shall  prove  it,  I  hope,  if  I  publish  my  works.  It 
will  be  seen  whether — " 

"  Oh !  pen  in  hand,  it  is  another  matter.  A  man  has  time 
to  arrange  his  attacks  and  defences;  to  repress  expressions 
which  may  be  too  strong,  and  sharpen  those  which  are  not 
strong  enough.  I  was  alluding  to  your  ordinary,  instinctive 
ideas." 

"  God  alone  is  judge  of  those." 

"  God  alone  ! — and  the  Church  ?" 

"  The  Church  cannot  have  the  right  to  judge  of  that  about 
which  she  knows  nothing." 

"  That  is  a  speech  which  would  sound  very  badly,  I  fancy, 
to  certain  ears,  in  certain  countries.  Your  Church  has  never 
admitted  that  she  is  not  to  be  the  judge  of  the  most  secret 
feelings.  This  opinion  alone  puts  you  in  opposition  to  her." 

"At  all  events,  you  are  not  the  person  to  reproach  me  for  it." 

"  Not  I ;  I  only  pray  that  God  will  cause  you  to  make  rapid 
progress  in  this  doctrine.  But  you  have  already  gone  far 
enough  for  us  to  be  surprised,  when  you  seem  to  fancy  your- 
self so  widely  removed  from  us." 

"  That,  in  fact,  is  the  point,"  added  Rabaut.  "  Some  details 
have  just  been  given  me,  Monsieur,  in  regard  to  the  religious 
party  to  which  you  belong ;  and  I  could  not,  in  conscience, 
help  asking  myself  why  you  do  not  belong  to  ours.  For  why 
is  it  that  we  are  not  Catholics  1  Our  reasons  may  be  easily 
reduced  to  three.  That,  in  the  first  place,  which  I  may  term 
hierarchical ;  we  do  not  believe  in  the  authority  of  the  pope. 
Secondly,  that,  which  I  shall  term  doctrinal ;  we  will  have  no 
rule  of  faith  but  Scripture.  And  finally,  that  which  may  be 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  2Gi 

called  moral ;  namely,  we  leave  to  each  one  the  responsibility 
of  his  own  belief,  as  well  as  his  own  actions.  These  principles 
are  yours." 

"  Ours !"  cried  Monsieur  de  Faillet. 

"  Yours.     Be  kind  enough  to  listen  to  me." 

"  Suppose  we  take  our  -seats  ?"  said  Gebelin. 

They  went  on  into  a  small  apartment,  and  sat  down. 

"To  resume  our  subject,"  said  the  minister.  "My  three 
points  are,  in  fact,  closely  connected.  It  would  be  useless  to 
develop  them  separately. 

"  With  us,  as  I  said,  every  man  is  responsible  for  his  belief. 
Among  you,  what  do  I  see  ?  From  Pascal  to  Quesnel,  from 
Arnauld  to  your  leaders  of  the  present  day,  an  endless  tissue 
of  discussions  and  struggles.  Would  this,  I  ask,  be  the  spec- 
tacle presented  by  men  really  convinced  that  the  Church  alone 
is  to  be  depended  upon ;  that  what  she  gives  must  be  accepted, 
what  she  condemns  be  rejected,  what  she  approves  be  approved, 
and  what  she  condemns  be  condemned  1  Either  you  resist, — 
and  this  I  do  not  admit, — for  the  mere  pleasure  of  resisting,  or 
you  feel  yourselves,  in  the  presence  of  God,  responsible  for 
your  belief. 

"  Still  further.  Not  only  do  you  not  appear  to  believe  that 
the  responsibility  of  the  Church  sufficiently  shelters  your  own, 
but,  the  case  failing,  you  assume  the  position  of  a  formal  re- 
sistance. It  is  not  for  me  now  to  examine  the  points  upon 
which  you  have  been  condemned  ;  I  confine  myself  to  remark- 
ing, that  there  are  and  have  been  numerous  decisions  to  which 
you  have  never  entirely  submitted  yourselves.  When  the 
archbishop  of  Paris,  your  legitimate  pastor,  refuses  you  the 
sacraments, — when  the  pope  supports  the  archbishop, — when  the 
whole  body  of  bishops,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  is  unani- 
mous against  you, — it  is  impossible  for  me  to  comprehend  in 


202  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OB 

what  sense  you  are  still  the  children  of  the  Church  which  pre- 
tends to  speak  in  the  name  of  God,  and  which — this  you  your- 
selves teach,  when  it  is  necessary  to  oppose  its  word  to  us — 
cannot  err." 

"  We  do  not  deny  its  authority,"  said  Monsieur  de  Faillet ; 
"  we  confine  ourselves  to  distinguishing  between  the  cases  in 
which  the  exercise  of  this  authority  is  natural  and  legitimate, 
and  those  in  which  it  would  be  an  usurpation." 

"  There  it  is  ! — But  Monsieur,  tell  me,  for  Heaven's  sake, 
what  difference  do  you  see  between  us,  who  deny  it  in  toto, 
and  yourselves,  who  deny  it  when  it  seems  good  to  you  ?" 

"  What !  would  it  be  the  same  thing,  do  you  think,  to  deny 
the  king's  authority,  and  to  resist  it,  in  a  case  of  flagrant  op- 
pression ?" 

"  Your  comparison  is  not  and  cannot  be  just.  The  greatest 
defenders  of  royal  authority,  have  never  claimed  for  it  the 
privilege  of  infallibility.  They  grant  you, — and  how  could 
they  do  otherwise, — that  a  king  may  make  bad  laws,  give  bad 
orders,  and  have  absurd  ideas.  Could  you  say  the  same  of 
the  pope,  without  giving  him  up  entirely  ?" 

"  The  pope  is  not  the  Church." 

"  Just  as  you  like ;  but  pray  what  is  the  Church  without 
him "?  As  soon  as  his  voice  is  not  infallibly  that  of  the  Church, 
where  must  you  go  1  Where  is  the  Church  ?  When,  how, 
through  whom  does  she  speak  1  Every  one,  then,  may  make 
her  speak ;  each  one  may  assert  with  equal  authority,  what 
she  ought  to  be  understood  to  teach,  or  not  to  teach.  We  also 
admit  the  authority  of  the  Church  in  this  manner,  with  this 
difference,  that  instead  of  supporting  ourselves  upon  what  she 
teaches  at  the  present  time,  we  rest  upon  what  she  taught  in 
the  first  or  second  century.  True,  we  do  not  acknowledge 
that  any  one  has  the  right  or  power  to  tell  us  infallibly  what 


THE     COURT     OP     LOUIS     XV.  2(>3 

* 

she  then  taught ;  but  you,  if  you  do  not  acknowledge  the  pope 
to  be  the  person  to  tell  you  infallibly  what  she  teaches  now, 
whom  can  you  acknowledge  1  There  we  see  you,  like  our- 
selves, practising  the  right  of  individual  judgment,  we  see  you 
laboring,  each  one  for  himself,  and  on  his  own  responsibility, 
to  form  for  himself,  with  the  triple  aid  of  the  Scriptures,  con- 
science, and  history,  the  religion  which  he  is  to  profess.  I  re- 
peat it,  unless  you  ackowledge  a  pope, — an  infallible  pope, — 
you  may  say  as  much  as  you  will,  that  you  do  not  resemble 
us ;  you  have  in  reality  the  same  principles  as  ourselves." 

"  What  matters  it,  provided  that  we,  after  all,  are  in  the 
right,  while  you  remain  in  the  wrong  ] 

"  What  matters  it  ?  Why  Monsieur,  that  is  almost  an  ab- 
juration. You  could  not  possibly  have  confirmed  more  clearly 
all  that  I  just  said.  What  matters  it?  you  ask.  What  mat- 
ters it  how  the  truth  be  reached,  if  it  be  but  reached  ?  Why 
the  Church  in  such  a  system  is  no  longer  anything  more  than 
an  assistance  to  be  resorted  to,  when  one  feels  the  need  of  it, 
and  consequently  to  be  laid  aside,  as  soon  as  one  feels  it  pos- 
sible to  do  without  her.  She  is  an  authority  to  be  consulted ; 
not  the  authority,  in  the  absolute,  complete,  divine  sense  which 
all  Catholic  authors  have  given  to  this  word.  Once  more,  the 
consideration  of  results  has  nothing  to  do  here.  As  soon  as 
you  assume  to  yourself  the  right  not  to  submit  in  everything, 
but  to  examine,  to  determine  yourself  whether  or  not  you  will 
submit,  you  have  deserted  the  Catholic  principle.  It  is  all  one 
whether  you  reject  the  bull  Unigenitus,  or  the  Council  of 
Trent." 

"  Come !  come !  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you  are  ignorant 
how  we  look  upon  these  matters." 

"  Yes,  thank  God,  I  am  ignorant  of  the  sophisms  in  which 
you  are  forced  to  take  refuge,  in  order  still  to  appear  Catholic, 


261  RABAUT     AND     BIUDAINE,     OR 

while  retaining  certain  rights  of  conscience  and  reason.  To  ap- 
pear Catholic!  Do  you  at  least  succeed  in  this?  If  you  do 
not  deceive  God,  do  you  at  least  deceive  men  ?  •  Yes  ;  those 
who  choose  to  to  be  deceived ;  those  whose  interest  it  is 
to  be  so ;  those  who  would  fear  the  sensation  caused  by  an 
honest,  distinct  explanation.  But  do  you  deceive  those,  who 
like  us,  have  no  interest  in  being  cautious ;  those,  who  like  the 
Jesuits,  wish  that  you  should  be  Catholics  in  deed,  and  not  in 
word  only  1  Do  you  expect  to  deceive  them  ?  When  they 
summon  you  to  submit, — armed  with  the  bull  Unigenitus, — 
and  you  do  not  submit,  what  room  is  there  for  hesitation  ?  It 
must  be  yes,  or  no.  A  bull,  you  say,  is  not  a  decree  of  the 
council.  But,  so  far  I  know,  you  have  no  permanent  council." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Monsieur  de  Faillet ;  "  it  is  not 
assembled,  but  it  exists.  When  the  body  of  bishops  have 
unanimously  admitted  a  decree  of  the  sovereign  pontiff,  then 
this  decree  has  the  force  of  a  law." 

"Very  good;  you  could  not  better  have  anticipated  just 
what  I  was  about  to  say.  A  bull,  according  to  you,  has  the 
force  of  a  law,  only  after  having  been  received  by  the  whole 
body  of  bishops ;  and  the  bull  Unigenitus,  you  were  undoubt- 
edly about  to  add,  has  not  been  so  received.  Some  bishops 
have  objected,  and  still  object.  Yes,  but  how  many  ?  Does  it 
depend  then  upon  a  few,  upon  three  or  four,  upon  one,  to  pre- 
vent a  decree  of  the  pope,  received  by  all  the  others,  from 
being  obligatory  to  the  Church  ?  In  that  case,  what  you  say 
of  the  bulls  might  also  be  said  of  almost  all  the  decrees  of 
the  councils.  Even  at  Trent,  where  they  had  so  many  reasons 
for  endeavoring  to  appear  united,  there  was  scarcely  one 
made  which  was  not  opposed  by  some  of  the  bishops,  fre- 
quently by  a  number  of  them,  a  very  great  number,  a  quarter, 
a  third  of  the  voters.  Will  you  reject  those "?  I  have  no  ob- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  205 

jections ;  but  in  that  case,  what  is  it  to  be  a  Catholic?  What 
right  have  you  to  keep  that  name  ? 

"  All  this,  you  see,  leads  us  back  to  the  point  where  I  com- 
menced. The  true  and  only  Catholics  are  the  Jesuits.  One 
day  when  the  papal  Nuncio  visited  Chancellor  d'Aguesseau,  at 
Fresnes,  he  said  :  '  So  it  is  here  that  weapons  are  forged  against 
Rome  ?'  '  No,'  replied  the  Chancellor,  '  not  weapons,  only 
shields.'  And  the  whole  dispute  is  there.  What  the  Jansen- 
ists  call  shields,  the  Ultramontanists  call  weapons ;  and  the 
Ultramontanists  are  right.  At  the  Council  of  Trent,  when 
Lainez,  the  general  of  the  Jesuits,  undertook  to  set  forth  his 
theory  of  the  infallibility  of  the  pope,  he  forced  every  one  to 
admit  that  he  and  his  brethren  alone,  were,  if  not  in  the  right, 
at  least  the  only  honest  and  complete  applicants  of  the  princi- 
ple of  authority.  He  demonstrated,  that  in  refusing  infalli- 
bility to  the  pope,  it  was  also  refused  to  the  Church ;  that  if 
the  liberty  of  disobedience  or  even  of  examination  be  taken 
in  regard  to  one  point,  there  is  no  reason  why  it  may  not  be 
done  in  regard  to  all  others  ;  that  there  is,  in  short,  between  a 
Protestant  and  a  Jesuit,  only  a  factitious,  slippery,  lying 
medium.  Ah  !  if  all  the  Jesuits  had  the  frankness  of  Lainez ! 
If  they,  like  him,  refused  the  name  of  Catholics  to  all  those 
who  were  really  not  such !  What  amazement,  what  a  dis- 
banding there  would  be  in  your  Church !  But  no,  they  are  as 
accommodating  to  those  who  keep  their  rebellion  within  their 
hearts,  as  they  are  bitter  against  those  who  raise  the  standard 
of  rebellion.  Who  ever  say's  that  he  is  a  Catholic,  is  allowed 
by  them  to  imagine  that  he  is  one." 

"  Why  not  ?"  interrupted  Monsieur  de  Faillet.  "  What  is 
the  use  of  disquieting  consciences  actuated  by  good  intentions? 
I  did  not  expect  to  find  myself  the  apologist  of  the  Jesuits,  and 
yet—" 


266  RABAUT     AND     BR1DAINE,     OB 

"  Listen.  One  of  two  t.iings  is  true ;  either  it  is  impossible 
to  be  saved  without  being  a  Catholic,  or  it  is  not.  If  it  is  not, 
let  those  be  left  in  peace  who  have  the  courage  and  frankness 
to  confess  that  they  are  not  Catholics.  If  it  is,  then  it  is  cruel 
to  leave  in  their  error  those  who  imagine  that  they  are,  while 
they  are  only  half  Catholics,  or  not  Catholics  at  all,  which  is, 
in  fact,  the  same  thing." 

"  That  is  singularly  absolute." 

"  Is  it  my  fault  1  All  questions  in  your  Church  necessarily 
assume  this  character.  The  best  arm  to  employ  against  you, — 
I  had  almost  said  the  best  punishment  to  inflict  upon  you,«— is 
to  pin  you  down  to  your  own  principles,  and  forbid  you  to 
deviate  from  them.  Transgress  against  them,  and  you  are 
ours ;  hold  to  them,  and  you  find  yourselves  side  by  side  with 
these  men  whom  you  profess  to  combat  and  abhor. 

"  Permit  me  to  say,  then,  that  it  is  no  small  encouragement 
to  us,  in  our  struggle  against  Catholicism,  to  see  it  execrated, 
under  the  name  of  Jesuitism,  by  so  great  a  number  of  its  chil- 
dren. On  this  point  we  agree  perfectly  with  the  Jesuits.  We 
esteem  them  right,  perfectly  right,  in  declaring  themselves  to 
be  the  only  true  Catholics, — the  only  ones  truly  consistent  in 
the  application  of  Catholic  principles, — the  only  inheritors,  in 
virtue  of  their  fidelity,  of  the  divine  promises  which  you  assert 
to  have  been  made  to  your  Church.  They  can  prove  that  in 
condemning  them,  you  condemn  her ;  that  in  striking  them, 
you  strike  her.  Condemn,  strike.  We  shall  not  hinder  you. 
But  remember  that  in  striking  them,  you  strike  yourselves  at 
the  same  time." 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  26t 


LV. 


EXPECTATION. 

Monsieur  de  Faillet  affected  not  to  listen.  He  had  of  course 
felt,  though  vaguely,  during  his  struggles  with  the  Ultra-mon- 
tanists,  all  that  Rabaut  had  just  said.  Like  all  the  Catholic 
enemies  of  the  Jesuits,  he  had  been  obliged  to  shut  his  eyes,  in 
order  not  to  see  where,  in  reality,  fell  the  greater  portion  of 
the  blows  directed  against  them.  Like  all  Catholics  who  were 
friends  of  an  enlightened  faith,  of  a  wise  freedom,  and  of  a 
serious  and  elevated  piety,  it  was  only  by  shutting  his  eyes 
that  he  had  been  able,  without  falsehood,  to  continue  to  call 
himself  a  Catholic. 

But  it  is  not  easy  unhesitatingly  to  give  up  an  illusion  with- 
out which  it  would  no  longer  be  possible  to  avoid  laying  down 
one's  weapons.  The  heart  is  marvellously  skilful  in  preventing 
the  head  from  comprehending  the  real  state  of  the  question. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  head  is  frequently  the  dupe  of  the 
heart.  More  frequently,  we  may  add,  it  is,  if  not  its  dupe,  its 
slave. 

The  discussion  could  have  no  possible  result.  It  was  hap- 
pily interrupted. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  a  valet,  who  was  going  from  one  apart- 
ment to  another,  calling  together  the  scattered  guests,  "  it  will 
be  commenced  in  a  moment.  Madame  la  marquise  takes  the 
liberty  of  recommending  attention  and  silence." 

"  What  can  it  be  ?"  said  Rabaut. 

But  the  valet  had  already  passed  on  to  another  group  of 
talkers. 

"  Something  is  to  be  read,  probably,"  said  Gebelin. 


COS  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

"  Why  should  such  a  recommendation  be  given  ?  Do  they 
talk  while  reading  is  going  on  1" 

"  That  is  as  it  happens.  If  the  reader  belongs  to  the  set,  you 
might  hear  a  pin  drop ;  if  not,  they  do  not  trouble  themselves 
much  to  keep  silence.  Some  days  ago,  a  young  author,  one 
Bernardin,  I  think,  read  us  the  first  part  of  some  little  romance. 
It  was  really  very  good ;  a  little  effeminate,  but  charmingly 
natural.  The  whole  thing,  moreover,  was  quite  novel ;  for  the 
scene  was  laid  in  the  Isle  of  France,  where  our  authors  have 
never  yet  thought  of  going  in  search  of  inspiration.*  But  all 
our  company  here  pronounced  this  simplicity  and  nature  too 
simple,  too  Creole,  too  natural,  in  short.  '  Let  the  horses  be 
f»ut  to  my  carriage !'  said  Monsieur  de  Buffon,  in  his  most 
grandiose  tone ;  and  the  poor  author,  a  few  moments  after, 
stopped  reading.  But  come,  gentlemen ;  everybody  is  already 
in  the  saloon." 

The  saloon  presented  rather  a  singular  appearance.  "What 
is  to  be  done  ?"  asked  some.  "  We  do  not  know,"  replied 
others.  Evidently  something  was  plotting. 

LVI. 

A      VOUNO     ORATOR. 

And  great  indeed,  in  all  respects,  was  the  surprise  which 
awaited  the  company  this  evening. 

The  hotel  de  Rambouillet,  although  for  fifty  years  it  had 
ceased  to  exist,  had  left  a  profound  impression.  Its  pretensions 
were  laughed  at, — and  twenty  houses  now  set  up  just  as  many. 

Madame  du  Deffant  especially  continued  it  as  well  as  she 

*  Bernardin  de  St.  Pierre's  "  Paul  and  Virginia  "  is  evidently  alluded 
to.  Tr. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  1*69 

could.  She  hastened  to  attempt  everything  which  occurred  to 
her,  in  order  to  make  the  succession  more  direct,  and  the 
resemblance  greater. 

One  day,  as  she  enumerated  on  her  fingers  all  the  reputa- 
tions which  had  dawned  beneath  her  roof,  she  remembered 
that  no  preacher  had  yet  received  in  her  house  that  baptism 
of  fame  with  which  Bossuet  and  a  few  others  had  been  grati- 
fied in  the  old  saloon  of  Rambouillet. 

This  idea  tormented  her.  Devotion, — for,  as  we  have  seen, 
she  occasionally  had  a  slight  inclination  in  that  direction, — 
devotion  joined  its  voice  to  that  of  vanity.  After  having 
patronized  so  many  infidels,  it  would  be  a  sort  of  expiation  to 
patronize  a  believer,  or  at  least  a  man  who  bore  the  dress  and 
aspect  of  a  believer. 

But  where  was  such  a  man  to  be  found  ?  He  must  be,  at 
the  same  time,  youthful  enough  to  admit  of  her  having  the 
honor  to  form  and  direct  him,  and  old  enough,  and  particularly 
well  enough  endowed,  to  enable  the  public  to  take  him  up 
immediately. 

"  I  have  found  him !"  said  the  constant  Pont-de-Veyle,  at 
length.  "  He  is  a  young  man  from  Venaissin, — the  son  of  a 
shoemaker.  Ne  sutor  ultra  crepidam,  you  will  say.  But  no. 
I  think  he  is  the  very  man  to  disprove  the  proverb.  Quite 
newly  arrived  in  Paris,  he  was  asked,  the  other  day,  what  he 
came  here  for  1  '  To  look  for  my  hat,'  was  his  reply.  They 
say  the  cardinal  de  Rohan  laughed  very  heartily.  He  called 
him  his  colleague  in  the  blade.  Let  us  water  the  plant, 
and—" 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"  Sixteen  or  seventeen." 

"  Why  !  he  is  a  mere  child  !" 

"  You  would  take  him  for  twenty.     Besides,  it  was  just  Bos- 


270  RABAT!  T     AND     R  RID  A  INK,     OR 

suet's  age  when  he  made  his  appearance  at  the  hotel  de  Ram- 
bouillet." 

"  Yes ;  but  Bossuet — Bossuet — was  Bossuet." 

"  Bossuet  himself  at  that  age,  certainly  had  not  greater  fa- 
cility and  confidence  than  this  young  man." 

"  He  had  more  faith,  probably — " 

"  That  is  not  my  business !" 

"  Profane  man !" 

"  Bigot !" 

"  Hush !     His  name  is  ? — " 

"  Maury." 

"  Maury. — The  abbe  Maury." 

"  But  he  is  not  yet  abbe  !" 

"  So  I  should  suppose.  I  am  trying  how  it  would  sound. 
The  abbe  Maury. — Cardinal  Maury. — Oh  yes  ;  the  name  does 
very  well.  Decidedly  he  is  the  man  to  take  up.  We  will  do 
so.  We  must  make  him  extemporize  a  sermon,  shall  we 
not?" 

"  A  sermon !     You  would — " 

"  Why  not  ?  You  know  very  well  that  Bossuet  made  his 
debut  in  that  way." 

"Yes;  but— " 

"But  what?" 

"  A  sermon  before  these  gentlemen  1  Before  d'Holbach  ? 
Before  Diderot,  perhaps  ]" 

"  Without  counting  you." 

"  Yes,  without  counting  me.  An  edifying  audience,  on  my 
honor !" 

"  It  will  show  whether  the  orator  is  a  man  of  talent." 

"  I  understand.  If  he  knows  how  to  play  his  part  as  a 
Christian  without  interfering  with  those  who  are  not  so,  we 
will  patronize  him ;  if  he  thinks  himself  obliged  to  thunder 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV..  271 

away  at  the  infidels,  we  will  say  to  him :  'Go  in  peace,  my 
dear.  Become  a  village  cure,  and  God  be  with  you  !'  That 
is  the  thing,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Exactly." 

The  next  day,  a  new  guest  made  his  appearance  in  the  sa- 
loon. This  young  man,  with  his  lofty  brow  and  fearless  eyes, 
had  in  two  hours  become  familiar  with  all  the  great  lords  and 
authors  whom  he  found  there.  Whence  did  he  come  ?  No 
one  from  his  aspect,  would  have  imagined  for  an  instant. 
Everything  about  him  indicated  at  the  same  time  the  man  of 
the  people  and  the  man  of  the  world,  the  plebeian  and  the 
aristocrat,  that  happy  mixture  by  which  high  and  low  are  so 
easily  attracted, — the  low,  because  they  are  easily  imposed 
upon  by  all  greatness,  and  the  high,  because  they  are  small  in  the 
presence  of  that  energetic  aplomb,  which  is  now  so  rarely  met 
with  save  among  the  people.  This  unknown  youth  was  he,  who 
for  the  next  twenty  years  was  to  be  witty  in  the  pulpit,  and 
sceptical  in  the  saloons ;  he  who  was  to  pass  his  youth  at  the 
feet  of  Voltaire,  and  his  old  age  at  the  feet  of  Napoleon ;  not, 
it  is  true,  without  having  displayed  during  the  perils  of  the 
revolution,  more  than  one  flash  of  real  courage  and  real  elo- 
quence. It  was  Siffrein  Maury,  the  future  Cardinal  Maury. 

LVII. 

M  AUE  Y'S     TEXT. 

He  had  received  with  joy  and  eagerness,  the  proposal  of  this 
trial,  which  might  raise  him  at  once  to  a  higher  position  th;in 
he  could  have  attained  by  six  years  of  persevering  efforts.  No 
fear,  not  the  slightest  agitation  rendered  the  prospect  alarm- 
ing. 


272  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINK,     OR 

"  So  you  -are  not  afraid  of  coming  to  a  stand  still  ?"  his  pro- 
tectress inquired.  "  Bah  !  Madame,  how  is  it  possible  for  any 
one  to  do  that  ]" 

The  whole  age  was  in  this  reply.  To  know  everything,  to 
be  able  to  talk  about  everything,  had  been  for  the  last  forty 
years  the  wish,  the  aim,  the  folly  or  the  glory, — as  you  may 
decide, — of  this  society,  of  which  he  was  to  be  one  of  the 
latest,  but  also  one  of  the  most  thorough  representatives. 

At  length  an  evening  had  been  decided  upon,  and  this  was 
the  evening. 

Gebelin  and  Rabaut  could  not  for  a  long  time  understand 
what  was  about  to  take  place.  The  initiated  continued  to 
smile  without  replying.  We  may  be  permitted  to  suppose 
that  discretion  was  not  the  only  motive  of  their  silence.  At 
the  hotel  de  Rambouillet,  in  1644,  a  sermon  seemed  only 
strange;  at  Madame  du  DeflTant's,  in  1760,  a  sermon  was 
ridiculous.  Few  people  wished  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
it. 

At  length,  the  aspect  of  the  assembled  guests  denoted  that 
the  matter  was  no  longer  a  secret  to  any  one.  Some  laughed, 
some  shrugged  their  shoulders.  Some  few, — the  most  sincere 
believers,  and  the  most  downright  infidels,  took  their  de- 
parture. 

Great  was  the  embarrassment  of  many  upon  being  re- 
quested to  name  a  text,  in  order  that  the  orator  might  draw 
one  at  hazard  from  among  the  number  given.  The  holy  Scrip- 
tures at  this  epoch  were  but  little  known  save  by  two  classes 
of  persons;  the  followers  of  Jansenius,  who  read  them  for 
their  own  edification,  and  also  a  little  for  the  pleasure  of  dis- 
obeying the  pope  ;  and  the  followers  of  Voltaire,  who  studied 
them  in  order  to  laugh  at  them.  "  Is  it  not  necessary,"  he  said 
once,  "  to  know  the  case  of  our  adversaries  ?"  Half-way  infi- 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  273 

dels,  worldly  people,  well-bred  people  in  general,  had  nothing 
to  do  with  them,  and  it  might  have  been  said  of  the  holy 
books,  as  Voltaire  said  of  Pompignon's  hymns  : 

"  Sacred  they  are,  siuce  they  are  touched  by  none." 

Accordingly,  throughout  the  saloon  might  be  heard  in  a  half 
whisper :  "  A  text,  if  you  please."  "  A  text !"  And  all  the 
superfluous  verses  with  which  some  might  be  acquainted,  they 
generously  bestowed  upon  their  neighbors.  "  But  is  this  cor 
rect?"  asked  some.  "Yes, — nearly  so."  And  from  these 
reminiscences  resulted  supposed  verses  which  would  have 
called  forth  the  horror  of  Sacy,  or  Martin,  ancient  or  modern, 
Eomanist  or  Protestant  translators.  Others,  in  the  belief  that 
they  were  quoting  the  Bible,  boldly  wrote  down  some  of  the 
sayings  of  the  theophilanthropy  of  the  day.  "  Christ  was  the 
martyr  of  liberty."  "  Hell  is  the  heart  of  the  wicked."  "  God 
wills  the  happiness  of  all."  "  But,  Monsieur,"  said  Rabaut 
to  one  of  his  neighbors,  who  had  just  written  down  these  last 
words,  "  that  is  not  in  the  Bible."  "  It  is  not  in  the  Bible  1 
Ah ! — Well,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  Bible."  And  he  threw 
his  verse  into  the  hat  of  Monsieur  de  Pont-de-Veyle,  who  was 
occupied  in  collecting  the  texts. 

LVIII. 

THE     SERMON. 

In  the  meantime  the  orator  had  made  his  appearance.  The 
near  approach  of  the  moment  had  at  length  awakened  in  him 
a  certain  degree  of  emotion.  It  is  certainly  a  great  thing  not 
to  come  to  a  stand  still ;  but  there  are  plenty  of  people  who 
avoid  this,  and  are  still  very  prosing.  Could  he  calculate  upon 


274  RABAUT     AND     BRIDATXE,     OR 

having  a  text  which  would  not  condemn  him  to  be  prosing,  in 
spite  of  all  his  talent  and  assurance  ?  And  suppose  the  sub- 
ject should  be  too  decidedly  Christian  for  him  reasonably  to 
indulge  in  philosophizing  upon  it  ?  And  suppose — but  his  un- 
certainty was  not  of  long  duration.  He  plunged  his  hand  into 
the  hat.  A  profound  silence  reigned. 

"  And  what  hast  thou  that  thou  didst  not  receive  1  Now  if 
thou  didst  receive  it,  why  dost  thou  glory  ?"* 

Such  were  the  words  traced  upon  the  paper  which  he  had 
drawn  from  the  hat.  But  he  had  perceived  at  a  glance,  all 
that  there  was  embarrassing  in  the  why  at  the  close.  Hu- 
mility !  He  cared  no  more  to  preach  it  than  the  audience  to 
hear  it.  Accordingly  he  read  the  first  line  only : — "  What 
hast  thou  that  thou  didst  not  receive1?"  This  was  still  humili- 
ty, but  humility  in  a  form  which  which  would  allow  him  to 
say  but  little  about  it. 

And  in  fact,  he  said  but  a  few  words  in  regard  to  it,  in  his 
exordium  ;  these  words  moreover  being  merely  in  order  to 
conceal  his  turning  aside  from  the  subject.  "  We  owe  all  to 
God.  We  participate,  through  our  faculties,  in  his  nature,  his 
intelligence,  and  all  his  perfections.  Thence  the  prodigies  of 
all  kinds  accomplished  by  human  nature,  in  the  sciences,  the 
arts,  in  all  the  paths  which  Providence  has  opened  to  us." 
This  was  the  style  of  his  commencement ;  an  able  introduc- 
tion to  a  magnificent  picture  of  the  grandeur  of  human  intelli- 
gence. 

Viewed  in  this  light,  there  was  no  subject  in  the  world  which 
could  have  been  more  suited  to  the  taste  of  the  age,  and  es- 
pecially of  the  audience  which  Maury  had  before  him.  The 
eighteenth  century  doubtless  thought  much,  accomplished 
much,  and  made  many  discoveries ;  but  never  was  there  a  cen- 
*  1  Cor.  iv.  7. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  27") 

tury  which  more  naively  expressed  its  admiration  for  its  own 
thoughts  and  deeds.  It  sometimes  even  admitted  this  to  be  the 
case.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  wrote  Grimm,*  "  that  the  eighteenth 
century  surpasses  all  others  in  the  praises  which  it  has  bestowed 
upon  itself."  Ours,  we  must  in  justice  admit,  is  more  modest. 
Individual  pride  is  the  same ;  public  pride,  if  we  may  so  en- 
title it,  has  imposed  upon  itself  tolerably  wise  limits.  The 
more  progress  we  make,  and  the  more  rapidly  we  make  it,  the 
more  we  feel  what  folly  it  would  be  to  assert  that  we  have 
reached  the  utmost  limits  of  discovery.  At  that  time  this 
was  believed  to  be  the  case.  Superior  men,  inferior  men, 
commonplace  men,  all  took  part  in  the  long  hymn  sung  to  the 
glory  of  man  ;  all  joined  in  the  immense  circle  which  noisily 
danced  around  his  pedestal. 

Yet  the  youthful  voice  which  on  this  day  joined  the  deafen- 
ing  concert,  did  not  lack  grandeur  and  elevation.  The  only 
fault  of  this  sermon,  was  its  being  called  a  sermon  at  all.  The 
picture  of  the  age's  progress  had  never  been  delineated  with 
greater  splendor  and  power.  The  surprise  of  all  was  great, 
their  attention  was  profound.  In  this  rapid  review  of  all  that 
had  been  accomplished  in  the  last  hundred  years,  there  was 
not  a  word,  not  a  stroke  which  did  not  win  over  to  the  orator 
some  one  of  his  audience.  By  turns,  artist,  savant,  author, 
and  philosopher,  he  spoke  to  each  his  own  language ;  to  each 
,one,  like  a  sovereign  scattering  wide  his  honors,  he  knew  how 
to  deal  forth,  as  he  went  on,  whatever  he  thought  would  best 
suit  his  tastes,  and  his  pride.  He  named  no  one,  indicated  no 
one ;  and  yet  all  eyes  were  continually  turned  from  him  to 
those  whose  labors  he  was  exalting.  He'  allowed  each  one 
time  to  taste  well  his  glory ;  and  he  made  them  all  feel  the 

*  Correspondence.     25th  January,  1757. 


276  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

honor  of  entering  in  some  degree  into  the  splendor  of  the 
whole. 

"  What  labors  !"  he  cried.  "  What  triumphs !  What  an  im- 
mense extension  of  the  field  of  our  forefathers !  In  other 
days,  hardly  at  the  close  of  a  long  life,  could  one  perceive  any 
considerable  change  and  progress  ;  now,  from  year  to  year, 
almost  from  month  to  month,  all  boundaries  are  changed,  all 
treasures  increased.  The  earth  has  no  longer  any  abysses,  the 
heavens  have  no  depths,  into  which  the  human  eye  does  not 
penetrate.  Hope  no  more,  ye  wandering  stars,  to  terrify  us 
by  your  caprices !  Your  path  is  marked  out.  We  shall  ex- 
pect your  return  in  future,  as  we  expect  that  of  the  most 
docile  of  your  shining  companions.  Four  elements  were 
bequeathed  to  us ;  we  shall  bequeath  forty  to  our  successors. 
Bring  us  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  some  plant  which  no 
human  eye  has  yet  seen  ;  we  shall  recognize  it ;  we  shall  tell 
you  its  place  in  the  vegetable  world.  Go  and  seek  in  the 
deepest  mines,  a  shapeless  rock,  a  broken  bone.  We  will 
make  this  stone  relate  to  you  the  history  of  the  globe  ;  we  will 
restore  life  to  it,  and  with  it  resuscitate  before  your  eyes  all  the 
generations  of  living  creatures  which  have  preceded  us  in  the 
universe." 

Thus  spoke  the  young  and  brilliant  sophist ;  thus,  on  the 
altar  of  the  eighteenth  century,  he  burned  the  incense  of  his 
glowing  admiration. 

He  ceased.  His  discourse  had  been  nearly  an  hour  in 
length.  He  had  caressed  the  pride,  and  sung  the  triumphs  of 
all.  Could  he  doubt  of  his  success  ?  We  may  add  that  he 
had  taken  good  care  not  to  spoil  the  admirable  effect  of  this 
picture  by  a  Christian  peroration.  Like  those  flatterers  who 
conclude  their  eulogiums  by  throwing  themselves  on  their 
knees  and  thanking  God  for  the  virtues  of  their  idol,  he  had 


TIIE     COURT     OF     I.OUIS     XV.  277 

cried  :  "  O  God,  behold  our  age  has  received  all  this  from  you  ! 
You  have  willed  that  it  should  tower  above  the  other  ages,  like 
the  cedar  of  Lebanon  above  the  surrounding  groves,  like  the 
lily  above  the  lowly  plants  which  it  surpasses  in  its  appear- 
ance, and  embalms  with  its  fragrance !  Disappear  then,  hence- 
forth disappear  ye  clouds  !  The  reign  of  intelligence  is  here. 
Humanity  has  once  more  taken  wing.  Let  it  go  onward ! 
And  the  Infinite  itself  shall  bend  down  beneath  its  triumphant 
progress  !" 

Great,  accordingly,  was  the  enthusiasm  ;  and  all,  even  Buflbn 
himself,  pressing  through  the  throng,  went  to  congratulate  the 
young  orator. 

LIX. 

"WHAT    SHALL    i    CRY"?" 

The  next  day  but  one,  at  the  same  hour,  in  a  remote 
chamber  in  the  archiepiscopal  palace,  another  orator  was  prac- 
ticing this  same  calling  of  eloquence,  the  noblest  or  the  most 
contemptible  of  callings. 

This  orator  was  not  just  commencing  his  career.  His 
debut  had  been  made  forty  years  before,  and  yet  he  mur- 
mured :  "  Never,  never  have  I  felt  as  I  now  feel !  To-morrow^ 
— to-morrow, — at  Saint-Sulpice.  All  Paris  will  be  there,  they 
tell  me.  All  Paris,  in  fact,— all  their  Paris,— this  nameless 
mixture  of  false  gold,  infidelity  and  vice.  Paris,— all  Paris. 
And  what  shall  I  say  to  these  people !  To-morrow,— and  no- 
thing yet  ready — nothing  that  is  worth  anything." 

And  he  pushed  away  several  roughly-written  papers,  rum 
pled,  torn,  and  covered  with  erasures  and  ink. 

"But  why,"  he  resumed,  "why  have  I  taken  it  into  my 
head  to  write?  I  was  never  made  to  write  down  these  things, 


278  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

line  by  line.  And  shall  I  at  sixty  try  to  learn  1  But  come, 
come, — I  have  lost  two  days.  This  work  must  at  least  profit 
me  a  little." 

He  took  the  leaves  again. 

"  This  exordium, — let  me  see. 

"  '  At  the  sight  of  an  audience  so  new  to  me,  the  astonish- 
ment aroused  within  me  is  only  equalled  by  the  fear  of  being 
too  far  below  what  is  apparently  expected  from  me.'  Me — 
me, — three  times  me  in  one  sentence.  Would  that  happen  if 
I  were  talking  ?  But  let  me  go  on, — I  will  correct  afterwards. 

" '  What  can  I  do,  in  commencing,  but  solicit  your  indul- 
gence 1  Grant  it  to  me — '  Good, — another  me.  '  Grant  it 
to  me,  my  dear  brethren.  I  am  but  a  poor  missionary.  Wha* 
right  have  I  to  present  myself  before  you.  Pardon — ' 

"  Falsehood  !"  cried  Bridaine ;  and  this  time  the  papers  were 
flung  to  the  further  side  of  the  table.  "  Falsehood  and  coward- 
ice !  And  I — I  could  write  that !  I  could — O  God,  my  pen 
was  a  lying  pen — like  so  many  others !  My  lips  could  not 
have  spoken  thus, — my  heart  still  less.  And  yet  I  wrote  it, — 
I  wrote  it ;  and  even  if  I  should  burn  these  leaves,  I  should 
none  the  less  have  written  them.  And  I  took  hours  to  do  it ! 
And  I  only  saw  a  few  words  to  be  corrected. — What,  what 
could  I  have  been  about  ?  What  was  I  thinking  of  ?  To  ex- 
cuse myself !  To  ask  pardon  !  '  What  right  have  I  to  present 
myself  before  you  I  What  right  1 — You  shall  read  it  upon  my 
brow,  infidels !" 

But  suddenly  a  cloud  seemed  to  pass  over  this  brow, 
whereon  he  felt  was  written  his  right  to  be  the  minister  of 
God.  He  bowed  his  head ;  he  was  silent.  His  eyes  seemed 
endeavoring  to  fathom  an  abyss.  This  abyss  was  his  own  heart. 

"  Yes,"  he  resumed,  "  yes ;  I  see  it  all.  And  God  saw  it 
before  I  did.  Not  alone  my  pen  was  guilty.  Yes.  The  poor 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  279 

missionary  was  afraid.  He  imagined  himself  appearing  with 
his  harsh  voice,  his  clumsy  gestures,  and  his  rustic  face,  before 
those  great  lords  and  beautiful  ladies.  He  belittled  himself, 
oh  God, — he  forgot  that  in  your  sight  your  ministry  is  always 
exalted !  Yes,  I  was  afraid.  I  thought  of  myself, — of — par- 
don me,  oh  God ! — of  my  reputation — of  the  disenchantment 
which  might  be  felt  upon  hearing  me.  Misery  !  oh  misery  ! 
I.»  it  quite  certain  that  I  am  not  thinking  of  the  same  things  now1?" 

He  remained  for  a  long  time  in  this  attitude  of  mournful 
self-examination, — his  hands  hanging  motionless  beside  him, 
and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  same  spot.  The  passing  hours  were 
tolled  solemnly  and  slowly  from  the  high  towers  of  Notre- 
Dame,  but  no  sound  reached  his  ear. 

At  length  midnight  sounded.  At  the  first  stroke  Bridaine 
arose,  as  if  this  solemn  hour  had  resounded  differently  from 
the  others,  through  the  long  corridors  of  the  palace.  He  lis- 
tened ;  he  counted — 

"  Midnight !"  he  murmured.  "  It  is  no  longer  to-morrow ; 
it  is  to-day.  A  few  hours  more,  and  I  shall  see  them, — there, 
crowded  around  my  pulpit.  O  God ! — oh  God!  once  more, 
what  shall  I  say  to  them  ?" 

He  fell  back  into  his  seat.  But  a  book  lay  before  him,  upon 
the  table  from  which  he  had  swept  his  manuscript.  Upon  the 
worn  parchment  of  its  rough  cover,  might  be  read  : 

"  Vox  dicentis :  Clama.     Et  dixi :  quid  clamabo  ? 

"  Clama  ;  ne  cesses.  Quasi  tuba  exalta  vocem  tuam  ;  et  an- 
nuntia  populo  meo  scelera  eorum,  et  domui  Jacob  peccata 
earum"* 

*  "  And  the  voice  said :  Cry.     And  he  said,  What  shall  I  cry  ? 
"  Cry  alond,  spare  not ;  lift  up  thy  voice  like  a  trumpet,  and  show  my 
people  their  transgression,  and  the  house  of  Jacob  their  sins." 

Isaiah  xl.  and  Iviii. 


280  RABAUT     AND     B  IM  I)  A  I  X  E  ,     OR 

He  himself  had  traced  these  words.  He  liked  to  have  them 
before  his  eyes.  They  were  his  credentials  as  an  ambassador 
of  God  ;  his  device  as  a  champion  of  the  faith,  and  in  his  mo- 
ments of  discouragement,  his  strength  and  consolation. 

He  took  the  book,  and  without  opening  it,  held  it  a  long 
time  upon  his  knees,  gazing  at  the  terrible,  but  re-assuring 
inscription. 

"  Quid  clamabo  ?"  he  murmured.  "  Yes.  What  shall  I  cry  ? 
Alas  \  Isaiah  asked  this  before  I  did,  Moses  before  Isaiah. 
They  also  trembled  before  they  went  to  work.  Come, — cour- 
age! Why  should  he  who  supported  them,  abandon  me? 
Come.  Where  is  my  text  1  Let  me  read  it  over  once  more. 
— And  God  will  do  the  rest." 

He  opened  his  book, — it  was  the  Bible, — and  soon  placed 
his  finger  on  the  verse  which  we  saw  him  select  at  the  house 
of  Gebelin,  from  the  leaf  saved  from  the  fire. 

Then,  with  more  assurance, — he  said  : 

"  Quid  clamabo  ?"  he  repeated.  "  This  is  what  I  shall  cry  ! 
'  For  God  hath  fixed  a  day  when  he  shall  judge  the  world.' 
He  \wsfixed  a  day.  Yes.  That  is  what  I  shall  say.  •  Fixed! 
fixed!  There  is — when?  No  matter  !  There  is,  in  the 
course  of  ages,  a  day  fixed,  irrevocably  fixed,  when  ye  shall 
appear  before  God.  There  is  a  day  when  all  your  iniquities 
shall  appear  before  you,  inscribed — forever  inscribed  upon  the 
flaming  book  of  justice, — upon  the  book —  But  no, — they  are 
familiar  with  these  terrifying  ideas.  I  wish  to  show  them  that 
this  book  is  their  own  heart ;  that  it  is  there  they  shall  one  day 
perceive,  as  if  by  a  lightning  flash,  all  that  they  now  accumu- 
late there,  of  falsehood  and  vice.  God  will  judge ;  yes,  but  not 
as  man  judges.  He  will  have  but  to  restore  to  the  wicked 
that  internal  consciousness  which  they  have  lost,  and  each  one 
shall  instantly  become  his  own  accuser,  judge,  and  executioner. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  281 

Fixed!  fixed!  Do  you  see  it,  as  it  draws  nigh,  still  sur 
rounded  with  obscurity,  but  certain,  inexorable,  that  day  when 
you  shall  be  plunged  into  the  abyss  ?  Do  you  see  it  1  Oh 
God !  Do  I,  myself,  look  closely  enough  at  it  ?  Do  1  feel 
vividly  enough  the  terror  with  which  I  wish  to  inspire  others  1 
Have  I  assured  myself  sufficiently  that  you  will  weigh  in  your 
eternal  balance  my  hesitations,  my  weaknesses,  all ! — even  to 
the  words  which  just  escaped  me  !" 


LX. 


A    PROPHETIC     VISION. 

He  was  once  more  silent.  He  let  his  clasped  hands  fall 
upon  the  book ;  his  brow  rested  upon  his  hands ;  his  eyes 
were  closed.  Soon,  beneath  the  double  weight  of  fatigue  and 
meditation,  he  fell  asleep,  but  with  that  half  slumber  in  which 
the  soul  seems  to  inherit  the  activity  of  the  body. 

And  then  he  felt  himself,  as  it  were,  transported  into  another 
world,  in  which  revived  in  other  forms  all  the  false  virtues,  all 
the  vices,  all  the  crimes,  against  which  he  had  inveighed  in 
this.  He  recognized  them  from  his  own  delineation  of  them. 
It  was  no  longer  the  earth  ;  it  was  not  hell.  These  spectres 
were  neither  sad  nor  joyful.  They  advanced  silently,  and 
their  gaze  seemed  fastened  upon  some  object.  Some  bran- 
dished a  hatchet,  others  affected  to  display  their  hands  without 
weapons,  while  a  concealed  poignard  might  be  detected  in  the 
graceful  folds  of  their  garments. 

And  these  spectres  came  and  went,  like  men  full  of  busi- 
ness. 

And  Bridaine  went  on,  on  with  them,  like  one  who  had 
something  to  see. 


282  RABAUT     AND     BR1DAINE,     OR 

And  with  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  of  these  demons, 
seemed  to  mingle  a  psalmody  from  on  high. 

"  Who  maketh  his  angels  spirits ;  his  ministers  a  flaming 
fire. 

"  He  hath  smitten  the  kings,  because  the  kings  transgressed. 

"  He  hath  smitten  the  nations,  because  the  nations  trans- 
gressed. 

"  Sow,  sow  the  wind,  and  ye  shall  reap  the  whirlwind. 

"  Sow,  sow  death,  and  ye  shall  reap  death. 

"  He  maketh  his  angels  spirits,  and  his  ministers  a  flaming 
fire—" 

But  the  spectres  listened  not.  They  went  on,  on  unceas- 
ingly- 

And  those  who  bore  the  axes,  brandished  them  more  boldly. 

And  those  who  had  the  daggers,  drew  them  forth. 

And  in  the  midst  of  the  mist  into  which  they  rushed  con- 
fusedly, might  be  perceived  upon  a  pedestal,  a  tall  and  majes- 
tic statue. 

Above  its  head,  in  starry  letters,  might  be  read, 

LIBERTY ; 

And  upon  the  rock  which  supported  it, 
GOD; 

Then  they  threw  themselves  upon  their  knees  before  it,  and 
all  cried  out, 

"  Help  us,  Liberty !  help  us !     Descend !  descend !" 

But  she  remained  motionless. 

And  then  they  dashed  themselves  against  the  pedestal,  and 
all  cried,  "  Overthrow !  Overthrow !" 

But  the  pedestal  was  not  shaken. 

Then  the  ax  33  were  raised,  and  all  cried,  "Break !  Break !" 


THE     COURT     OF     T,OUT.S     XV.  285 

But  the  axes  were  blunted  by  the  hard  granite  ;  the  name 
of  God  was  illuminated  by  all  the  sparks  of  fire  elicited  by 
the  iron  from  the  unconquerable  stone. 

"  Brethren,"  said  one  of  the  laborers,  "  what  shall  we  do  ?" 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  they  repeated. 

"  Brethren,"  he  resumed,  "  let  us  begin  by  erecting  another 
pedestal." 

Then  they  set  to  work.  Some  brought  materials,  others 
builded,  others  set  up  around  the  statue  the  scaffolding  by 
means  of  which  they  were  to  take  it  away. 

And  from  the  top  of  the  scaffolding  they  cried,  "Is  all 
ready  ?" 

And  those  below  replied,  "  No."  Then  they  ran  and  over- 
threw another  throne,  another  altar.  And  they  brought  the 
fragments,  and  heaped  them  up  together,  so  at  length  they 
raised  the  heap  to  the  height  of  the  old  pedestal. 

And  upon  the  sides  of  the  new  one,  to  which  had  been  given 
the  false  appearance  of  granite,  they  wrote, 

HONOUR,  PATRIOTISM,  EQUALITY,  FRATERNITY. 

Then,  amidst  the  acclamations  of  the  crowd,  the  statue  was 
taken  down  ;  they  carried  it,  with  songs,  to  its  new  pedestal ; 
they  set  it  up — 

But  immediately,  with  a  terrible  crash,  it  tottered, — crum- 
bled,— fell.  And  its  fragments  mingled  with  those  of  which 
the  spectres  had  endeavored  to  make  it  a  throne. 

And  to  the  commotion  of  the  tottering  earth,  replied  a  sigh- 
ing from  above : 

"  Woe,  woe  to  those  who  trust  in  man  ! 

"They  wished  to  set  up  Liberty  upon  the  virtues  and 
triumphs  of  man.  She  is  fallen,  and  great  was  her  fell. 

"  Woe,  woe  to  those  who  trust  in  man  !" 


284  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

Then  theie  was  a  great  division  among  those  who  had  ac- 
complished this  work. 

Some  cast  away  their  axes  and  clung  to  the  granite  which 
they  had  striven  to  overthrow.  They  dashed  their  repentant 
brows  against  it ;  they  kissed  it  devoutly. 

An  inner  voice  told  these,  that  henceforward  Liberty  should 
have  her  pedestal  in  their  hearts. 

The  others  had  shut  their  eyes  that  they  might  not  see ;  and 
at  the  first  sound  of  the  voice  from  on  high,  they  had  stopped 
their  ears. 

These  were  condemned  to  an  endless  search. 

And  so  they  sought, — sought  unceasingly.  Their  axes  stirred 
up  the  fragments.  Those  of  Liberty  were  shattered  like  the 
rest  beneath  their  mad  blows. 

And  the  mist  which  surrounded  them  became  thicker  and 
thicker. 

And  they  were  heard  to  curse  one  another. 

And  the  clash  of  arms  followed  the  sound  of  the  maledic- 
tions, and  the  clash  of  arms  was  succeeded  by  tears  and  cries, 
and  the  cries  were  followed  by  a  fearful  silence. 

Then  might  be  perceived,  in  the  midst  of  the  obscurity,  a 
statue,  seated.     Its  feet  were  bathed  in  blood.     Its  right  hair 
\vus  filled  with  chains  ;  its  left  held  an  iron  sceptre. 

This  was  Despotism,  seated  in  peace  upon  the  ruins  of  all 
rights  and  all  truths. 

She  seemed  sometimes  to  wear  a  royal  crown,  sometimes 
the  cap  of  liberty,  Her  tattered  garments  changed  to  purple 
robes,  her  purple  robes  to  tattered  garments.  The  sceptre 
alone  remained  always  of  iron. 

And  a  plaintive,  far-heard  voice,  like  the  voice  of  many  na- 
tions, arose  from  time  to  time  :  "  How  long,  oh  Lord !  how  long !" 

And  the  answer  too,  was  heard  immediately  : 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  285 

"  Repent  ye,  and  be  converted,  and  your  souls  shall  find 
peace." 

And  the  multitude  hearkened  not ;  and  Bridaine  repeated 
after  the  voice  from  on  high  :  "  Repent  ye  and  be  converted." 

And  the  voice  said  :  "  They  have  not  hearkened  to  the  voice 
of  God,  will  they  hearken  to  the  voice  of  man  ?" 

And  Bridaine  again  cried  aloud :  "  Repent  ye  and  be  con- 
verted !" 

But  a  terrible  confusion  was  now  all  that  could  be  seen. 
All  things  changed  their  names.  Good  was  called  evil ;  evil 
was  called  good.  Truth  entered  into  the  service  of  falsehood  ; 
falsehood  into  that  of  truth.  All  spoke,  but  none  listened. 
All  touched,  but  no  longer  perceived  each  other. 

And  all  was  whirling  round  in  an  infernal  tempest ;  while 
Bridaine,  terrified,  clung  to  the  book  upon  which  he  had  sup- 
ported his  head. 

And  when  at  length  he  re-opened  his  eyes,  he  saw  by  the 
rays  of  his  half  extinguished  lamp,  only  these  words  of  the 
scorched  leaf: 

"  God  hath  appointed  a  day  in  the  which  he  will  judge  the 
world." 

LXI. 

FASHIONABLE      RELIGION. 

Whilst  the  preacher  watched  and  prayed  in  the  archiepisco- 
pal  palace,  others  were  watching  at  Saint-Sulpice ;  but  these 
latter  did  not  pray. 

Many  people  of  rank  had  sent  their  valets  to  pass  the  night 
in  the  church.  This  was  the  only  way  of  securing  places  upon 
grand  occasions ;  besides,  it  was  the  fashion,  and  that  of  itself 
would  have  been  sufficient  reason. 


286  R  A  B  A  U  T     AND     R  II I  I)  A  I  \  T  ,     OR 

Fashion,  which  cannot  fail  to  have  its  effect  upon  religious 
matters,  has  so  much  the  more  influence  at  those  periods  when 
there  is  least  piety,  and  when  religion  is  most  an  affair  of  form 
and  decency. 

This  observation,  which  is  just  in  itself,  has  not  always  been 
well  applied. 

It  is  agreed,  for  instance,  to  attribute  to  fashion  all  the  piety 
or  at  least  the  external  appearance  of  piety  which  existed  in 
the  last  years  of  Louis  XIV.'s  reign. 

That  he  may  have  encouraged,  and  if  needs  be,  commanded, 
these  manifestations,  is  true.  We  know  very  well  what  may 
be  the  influence  of  a  king,  more  especially  a  king  like  him, 
whom  fashion  itself,  the  most  independent  of  powers,  was  in 
the  habit  of  obeying. 

But  we  go  too  far  in  attributing  to  him  alone  all  the  de 
votion  and  devotees  to  be  found  in  the  latter  part  of  his  reign. 
Beneath  these  manifestations  ordered  by  him,  there  existed  be- 
sides a  large  amount, — we  will  not  say  of  real  piety, — but  of 
pious  habits, — of  pious  -instincts  which  were  easily  aroused. 
We  may  be  sure  that  all  these  people  who,  to  please  Louis 
XIV.  performed  their  Easter  devotions  in  public, — would  have 
performed  them, — in  secret,  perhaps,  and  in  a  somewhat  con- 
fused style, — to  please  their  wives,  their  children,  and  them- 
selves. 

We  must  not  forget,  moreover,  that  these  externals  had 
long  outlived  the  old  king.  After  all  we  know  of  the  infi- 
delity and  immorality  of  the  last  century,  we  have  some 
trouble  in  not  fancying  the  churches  empty,  the  priests  de- 
rided, and  the  ceremonies  of  public  worship  turned  into  ridi- 
cule. This  would  be  an  entire  mistake.  People  had  ceased, 
it  is  true,  to  affect  religious  sentiments,  for  they  would  only 
have  met  with  sarcasms ;  but  external  duties  were  generally 


THK     ComT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  "    287 

fulfilled  as  scrupulously  as  ever.  Only  the  professed  infidels, 
— and  these  were  not  numerous, — had  entirely  broken  with 
the  Church.  Even  among  them  there  were  but  few  who  re- 
fused a  reconciliation  with  her  on  their  death-beds ;  many  did 
not  even  wait  until  then.  In  the  evening  they  laughed  at  the 
mass ;  in  the  morning  they  attended  it.  They  talked  impiety 
with  immoral  abbes,  and  theology  with  sincere  priests.  The 
sins  committed  in  the  company  of  the  former,  were  confessed 
to  the  latter.  And  as  for  the  easiest  of  all  religious  duties, — 
a  sermon  to  be  heard, — it  was  natural  that  this  should  be  care- 
ful ly  attended  to,  if  the  preacher  should  be  renowned  as  a  man 
of  talent,  or  of  great  peculiarities. 

LXI1. 

A      COTERIE. 

This  last  reputation,  as  we  have  seen,  belonged  to  Bridaine. 
He  had  been  much  talked  of  for  several  days.  His  merits 
and  defects  had  doubled  in  the  public  imagination.  Those 
who  had  seen  him  at  Versailles,  wished  to  hear  him  in  Paris  ; 
those  in  Paris  who  wished  to  hear  him,  longed  for  the  moment 
when  they  should  see  him  in  the  pulpit. 

He  was  to  preach,  as  was  his  custom,  at  nightfall,  and  the 
church  was  full  at  noon.  The  chairs  hired  at  five  sous  by  the 
people  inclined  to  make  a  business  of  it,  were  let  again  and 
again  at  higher  and  higher  prices.  Many  who  had  come  in 
order  to  speculate,  offered  theirs,  glad  to  sell  for  a  crown  what 
had  cost  them  the  quarter  of  a  livre;  and  more  than  one 
honest  bourgeois,  after  having  hesitated  for  a  long  time  be- 
tween God  and  Mammon,  had  finally  allowed  himself  to  be 
seduced  by  the  louis  d'or  of  the  marquis  or  the  banker. 


288  UAIIAUT     AND     HUIDA1NK,     OR 

The  assembly  contained,  accordingly,  to  its  remjtest  ranks, 
few  save  the  great,  the  rich,  and  men  of  letters.  Helvetius, 
who  was  unsurpassed  in  the  art  of  making  himself  at  home 
everywhere,  had  hired  the  whole  of  one  of  the  side  chapels, 
and  gallantly  did  the  honors  of  it  to  all  the  philosophers,  artists, 
and  literary  men  whom  he  could  perceive  among  the  crowd. 
He  did  not  implicitly  observe  the  order,  we  see,  that  he  should 
wait  a  month  or  two  before  showing  himself  in  public.  But 
who  obeyed  in  those  days  1  A  few  poor  wretches  at  farthest. 

There  was  much  conversation  going  on  in  all  directions,  but 
nowhere  so  much  as  in  the  said  chapel.  "  What  should  we 
do  in  a  church  but  talk," — when  we  are  Grimm,  Helvetius, 
d'Holbach,  and  lutti  quanti  ?*  They  appeared  astonished 
enough,  moreover,  to  find  themselves  there.  Upon  each  new 
arrival,  it  was  easy  to  guess  from  their  air,  that  the  first  words 
exchanged,  invariably  turned  upon  their  mutual  surprise. 

"Well?" 

"  Well  ?" 

"  Did  you  take  holy  water,  too  ?" 

"Of  course." 

"  And  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  edifying." 

"  We  must  howl  when  others  yell,  my  friend." 

"  And  play  the  simpleton  with  simpletons,  eh  ?" 

"  I  believe  there  is  some  one  in  this  confessional — " 
"It  is  Maury — you  remember, — the  other  evening — " 
"Ah!  good  day,  Monsieur  Maury.     I  have  not  yet  con. 
plimcnted  you — " 

*  All  the  rest. 


THE    COURT    OF    i.oris    xv.  289 

"  Monsieur — " 

"  But  how  you  are  established  there ! — Paper,  oens " 

"  I  am  going  to  try  and  write  down  the  sermon." 
"  Ah !  that  is  not  a  bad  idea." 

"  Monsieur,  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times.  I  was  horribly 
uncomfortable  in  that  mob.  Thanks  to  you  I  now  have  one  of 
the  best  places." 

"  I  am  happy  to  have  been  able  to  be  of  service  to  you." 

"  You  are  used  to  act  in  that  way.  Who  have  you  in  that 
Jittle  gallery  ?" 

"Where?" 

"There— on  the' left." 

"  I  had  not  even  seen  it.  I  believe  in  fact,  that  some  one  has 
just  entered  it." 

LXIII. 

THE    KING    INCOGNITO. 

And  who  was  this  some  one  ] 

About  two  hours  before  this  conversation,  a  chariot  with 
the  arms  of  Richelieu  had  left  Versailles  at  a  rapid  trot,  bear- 
ing off  the  duke  and  the  king. 

The  preparation  for  this  enterprise  had  rid  the  king  of  two 
or  three  days  of  his  habitual  ennui.  The  marquise,  instructed 
by  Richelieu,  had  played  the  unconscious  admirably.  The 
king  had  received  with  evident  satisfaction  her  compliments 
upon  his  good  spirits,  and  these  good  spirits  had  increased 
from  hour  to  hour,  at  the  thought  that  he  had  succeeded  so  well 
in  turning  aside  all  suspicion. 

As  he  rarely  failed  to  pay  for  the  few  moments  of  gaiety  he 


290  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAINE,     OR 

might  experience,  by  a  still  more  violent  return  of  his  ennui, 
he  had  scarcely  set  out  before  his  brow  was  clouded.  Every- 
thing had  changed  its  aspect  to  him.  He  had  found  it  amusing 
to  escape  from  the  marquise,  and  now  he  asked  himself  bitter- 
ly, what  sort  of  king  he  must  be  who  found  it  necessary  to 
escape  thus  from  a  woman  like  a  schoolboy  from  his  teacher, 
or  a  slave  from  his  master.  He  had  anticipated  the  sermon 
as  a  part  of  the  pleasure,  and  now  the  seriousness  of  the  thing 
appeared  to  him  in  all  its  nakedness.  What  was  he  going  to 
Paris  for  ?  To  hear  threats  which  would  terrify  him,  but  not 
make  him  change  his  habits  of  life;  warnings  which  could 
teach  him  nothing  new  in  regard  to  the  state  of  his  soul,  and 
would  but  serve,  in  fact,  to  make  him  still  more  inexcusable  in 
the  sight  of  God.  He  had  for  a  long  time  past  despaired  of 
his  strength ;  he  had  no  longer  even  the  resource,  often  lying, 
but  at  least  consoling,  of  persuading  himself  that  he  would  one 
day  change.  Such  as  he  now  was,  he  felt  that  he  should  ap- 
pear before  the  face  of  God,  an  unfaithful  king,  a  man  burdened 
with  vices,  and  a  heart  without  life. 

And  yet  this  very  despair,  managed  by  such  a  man  as 
Bridaine,  might  still  become  a  means  of  salvation.  The  more 
serious,  the  more  completely  established  the  malady,  so  much 
the  more  effect  is  often  felt  from  a  remedy  energetically  ap- 
plied. At  Versailles,  in  his  chapel,  the  word  of  God  reached 
his  ears  like  music  more  or  less  monotonous  ;  more  fitted  to 
lull  his  conscience  to  sleep  than  to  awaken  it.  There,  more- 
over, surrounded  by  homage,  more  honored  than  God  himself, 
it  was  but  an  affair  of  etiquette  for  him  to  hear  a  sermon  ; 
whether  the  discourse  were  strong  or  weak  it  was  all  the  same 
to  the  ears  of  the  king.  At  Paris,  in  a  vast  church,  mingled 
with  the  multitude,  recalled,  by  the  universality  of  the  in- 
structions and  denunciations,  to  a  feeling  of  the  equality  of  all 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  291 

in  the  sight  of  God,  he  might  yet  be  moved,  he  might  return 
to  his  palace  with  a  little  more  energy  in  his  mind,  a  little  more 
life  in  his  heart. 


LXIV. 

THE  CONFESSOR  . H IS  ADVERSARIES. 

His  bad  angel,  in  the  shape  of  his  confessor,  awaited  him 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  church. 

Richelieu  had  judged  it  impossible  to  bring  the  king  thither 
incognito,  without  admitting  the  cure  into  the  secret.  The 
cure  had  offered  the  little  retired  gallery  situated  in  the  chapel 
in  which  we  have  seen  Helvetius  and  his  friends.  It  had  been 
agreed  that  a  priest  should  stand  sentinel  at  the  outside  door  by 
which  they  entered. 

And  in  fact,  they  found  a  priest  at  this  door,  but  this  priest 
was  Desmarets. 

"  You  here !"  said  the  king. 

"  Sire,  I  may  be  here  as  well  as  any  other.  I  was  charged 
by  the  cure — " 

"  Charged, — charged — "  muttered  the  marshal ;  "  did  he 
know  whether  it  might  suit  the  king  for  you  to  know  that  he 
was  in  Paris'?" 

"  However,  sire,  I  am  ready  to  retire — " 

The  king  entered  without  replying.  A  small  staircase  con- 
ducted  him  to  the  gallery.  There  was  room  for  three ;  but 
Richelieu  placed  himself  so  that  there  was  no  seat  for  the  con 
fessor.  Desmarets  remained  standing.  What  cared  he  foi 
the  insult  ?  He  had  his  plan. 

Concealed  by  the  grating,  the  king  examined  the  multitude 
with  curiosity, — at  first  those  at  a  distance,  then  those  nearer. 


292  RABAUT     AND     BRIDAIXE,     OR 

and  at  last  hi s  eye  rested  upon  those  who  were  conversing  just 
beneath  him.  He  perceived  immediately  from  their  manner, 
that  they  were  all  acquainted  with  one  another,  and  that  acci- 
dent could  not  have  drawn  so  many  of  them  to  the  same  spot. 
He  at  length  distinguished  Helvetius,  who  had  been  at  court, 
it  may  be  remembered,  as  master  of  the  queen's  household. 

"Why  here  we  are,  I  believe,"  he  said  to  the  duke,  "in  the 
full  encyclopedist  conclave !" 

The  duke  smiled. 

"  Ah,  ha !  your  Majesty  has  discovered  1  I  noticed  it  as  I 
came  in." 

"  And  you  said  nothing  to  me  of  it  ?" 

"  I  feared  lest  this  vicinity  might  displease — " 

''  And  you  feared  also,  did  you  not,  that  I  might  think  you 
too  well  acquainted  with  these  gentlemen  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  them  all." 

"  No, — only  the  leaders  and  half  of  the  subalterns.  Come. 
Tell  me  the  names  of  some  of  them." 

"  With  pleasure,  sire.     Beside  Helvetius — " 

"  He  is  just  admitting  some  one  else.     Who  is  it  ?     Ha  ! 
one  Protestant  of  the  memorial.     They  are  acquainted  !" 
.    "  Infidelity  is  the  sister  of  heresy,"  said  Desmarets,  gravely  ; 
"  in  tolerating  one — " 

"  Beside  Monsieur  Helve tius,"  interrupted  Richelieu,  "  is  the 
Baron  d'Holbach,  then  on  the  right,  the  old  Baronne  du  Def- 
fant,  attended  by  her  Pont  de-Vegle,  of  whom  your  Majesty 
may  have  heard  something,  and  here  is  Monsieur  d'Alem- 
bert,  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences — " 

"  I  know  him,"  said  the  king,  with  an  absent  air. 

Richelieu  went  on,  but  the  king  no  longer  listened  to  him. 
Like  a  general  alarmed  by  the  contemplation  of  the  opposing 
army,  what  to  him  mattered  the  names  of  the  soldiers'? 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  293 

Known  or  unknown,  strong  or  weak,  they  were  soldiers,  this 
was  an  army,  these  were  the  waves  of  a  sea  to  which  God 
alone  had  the  power  and  right  to  say,  "  thus  fiir  shalt  thou 

go!" 

A  terrible  army  this,  in  truth,  of  which  all  the  soldiers,  one 
after  another,  might  have  been  imprisoned  without  causing  it 
to  cease  advancing,  increasing,  encroaching !  With  a  word, 
the  king  could  cause  any  of  the  men  at  this  moment  before 
his  eyes,  to  be  shut  up  for  life  within  four  walls.  But  he  had 
no  longer  faith  even  in  prison  walls.  The  new  ideas  were  in 
the  atmosphere. 

LXV. 

THE      PRIEST. 

And  so  he  became  more  and  more  dejected,  as  he  silently 
contemplated  these  demolishers  of  his  throne,  when  a  great 
movement  at  length  aroused  him  from  his  reverie.  The  hour 
had  struck.  The  crowd  divided  before  the  beadle,  who  ad- 
vanced towards  the  pulpit,  followed  by  a  white-haired  priest. 

It  was  he. 

He  ascended,  and  with  that  glance  which  at  once  imposes  si- 
lence upon  the  farthest  extremities  of  a  crowd,,  he  looked 
around  the  whole  building  ;  then  he  said,  slowly  and  gravely, 
but  with  a  voice  which  resounded  to  the  farthest  corners : 

"  At  the  sight  of  an  audience  so  new  to  me,  it  might  seem, 
my  brethren,  that  I  should  open  my  lips  but  to  ask  your  in- 
dulgence for  a  poor  missionary,  destitute  of  all  the  qualities 
which  you  demand  from  those  who  come  to  speak  to  you  of 
your  sal-ation. 

"  And  yet  I  have  a  different  feeling,  and  if  I  am  humiliated, 
do  not  imagine  that  I  yield  to  the  pitiful  measiness  of  vanity. 


294  RABAUT     AND     BRIDA'.NF,  ,     OR 

God  forbid  that  a  minister  of  the  word  should  ever  think  it 
needful  to  excuse  himself  to  you,  for  whoever  you  may  be, 
you  are  all  sinners  like  myself.  It  is  in  the  sight  of  your  God 
and  mine  that  I  feel  impelled  at  this  moment  to  smite  upon 
my  breast. 

"  I  have  preached  the  judgments  of  the  Most  High  in  straw- 
thatched  temples  ;  I  have  preached  the  rigors  of  penitence  to 
the  unfortunate  who  were  destitute  of  bread ;  I  have  saddened 
the  poor,  the  best  friends  of  my  God  ;  I  have  carried  terror 
and  grief  to  these  souls  which  I  seemed  called  upon  only  to 
console.  This  was  my  duty  ;  I  performed  it ;  woe  to  me,  if  I 
had  dared  to  believe,  or  to  allow  the  belief,  that  sin  in  the  low- 
ly hut  is  sheltered  from  condemnation  ! 

"  But  it  is  here,  more  especially,  here,  where  I  look  only 
upon  the  great,  and  the  rich,  upon  bold  and  hardened  sinners, 
ah !  it  is  here  that  the  holy  word  must  resound  with  all  its 
power  ;  it  is  here  that  I  must  place  before  you,  in  this  pulpit, 
on  the  one  hand,  death,  which  threatens  you,  and  on  the  other, 
the  great  God  who  comes  to  judge  you. 

"  This  day,  I  hold  your  sentence  in  my  hand.  Tremble, 
then,  before  me,  proud  and  disdainful  men  !  The  necessity  of 
salvation,  the  certainty  of  death,  the  uncertainty  of  its  terrible 
hour,  final  impenitence,  the  last  judgment,  the  small  number 
of  the  elect,  holly — " 

"Hell — "  murmured  Desmarets,  close  to  the  ear  of  the 
king. 

"  — and,  above  all,  eternity — " 

"  Eternity  !"  repeated  the  Jesuit. 

"  — these  are  the  subjects  of  which  I  mean  to  speak  to  you, 
and  which,  thank  God,  I  feel  less  disposed  than  ever  to  miti- 
gate. 

"  And  what  need  have  I  of  your  approval,  which  would  per- 


THE     COUUT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  295 

haps  ruin  me,  without  benefiting  you  ?  God  will  rouse  your 
emotions  whilst  His  unworthy  minister  is  talking  to  you  ;  for 
I  have  had  experience  of  his  mercies.  Then,  penetrated  with 
horror  for  your  past  iniquities,  you  will  come  and  throw  your- 
selves into  my  arms,  with  tears  of  compunction  and  repent- 
ance, and  then  your  remorse  will  make  you  think  me  suffi- 
ciently eloquent." 

LXVI. 

THE    KING'S    MIND. 

A  murmur  ran  through  the  church.  If  the  orator  believed 
that  he  had  touched  the  hearts  of  his  audience,  he  was  mis- 
taken. This  murmur  signified,  "  Good !  Excellent !"  It  was 
with  their  heads  they  admired ;  it  was  not  that  their  hearts  ac- 
knowledged themselves  subdued.  To  work,  poor  missionary, 
to  work  !  Thou  hast  yet  accomplished  nothing,  nothing  but  a 
beautiful  specimen  of  eloquence,  which  this  young  man,  this 
budding  orator,  will  arrange  to-morrow  after  his  own  fashion, 
in  order  to  deliver  it,  ridiculously  philosophized,  to  the  bravos 
of  an  infidel  age.* 

Yet  there  was  one  man  present  in  whose  heart  these  words 
had  left  a  more  profound  impression.  This  was  the  king. 

The  words  eternity  and  hell,  more  especially,  were  the  only 
ones  which  had  retained  the  power  to  affect  his  imagination. 
He  might  close  his  ears  and  suffer  them  to  remain  unheard, 
but  he  could  never  hear  them,  that  a  violent  shudder  did  not 
agitate  him,  that  a  reflection  of  the  never-dying  flames  was  not, 
to  his  terrified  gaze,  projected  upon  all  around.  It  was  from 

*  It  is  agreed  that  this  famous  exordium,  as  Maury  reports  it,  is  more 
by  himself  than  Bridaine. 


296  RABAUT     AND     BRJDAINE,     OR 

th/3  senses  tha,:  he  demanded  his  happiness  in  this  world ;  it 
was  from  the  senses  that  he  was  to  expect  his  chastisement  in 
the  next. 

His  confessors  had  done  nothing  to  inspire  him  with  nobler 
fears.  Happy  to  perceive  that  after  so  many  means  had  failed 
there  was  still  one  to  be  employed,  they  had  not  troubled 
themselves  to  raise  him  above  the  cowardly  terrors  of  the 
flesh.  It  mattered  little  to  them  whether  he  loved  God  or  not, 
provided  that  he  continued  to  fear  the  devil. 

This,  then,  was  the  feeling  of  which  Desmarets  had  watched 
the  progress  upon  his  countenance,  during  the  exordium  of  the 
sermon ;  this  was  the  feeling  which  he  had  done  his  best  to 
heighten,  by  his  sinister  interruptions,  and  his  terrifying  ad- 
herence to  the  words  of  the  orator. 

From  that  moment  the  state  of  the  king's  mind  was  radi- 
cally false.  All  that  Bridaine  might  say  grand  and  terrible, 
would  certainly  be  lowered  by  him  to  the  standard  of  his  own 
terrified,  childish  imagination.  After  a  few  more  shocks,  Dos- 
marets  would  try  a  great  blow.  The  king  would  not  be  con- 
verted by  it,  but  he  would  bow  his  head.  God  would  not  be 
satisfied,  but  the  Jesuits  would. 

The  thing  was,  as  we  have  already  said,  to  make  the  king 
declare  himself  openly  in  their  favor.  But  first  he  must  be 
brought  to  connect  his  own  cause  with  theirs ;  he  must  above 
all'be  fashioned  to  that  obedience  which  they  wished  to  find 
in  him.  For  a  soul  without  energy  once  to  have  yielded,  is 
always  a  reason  for  it  to  yield  again. 

This  was  the  reason  why  Desmarets  was  so  anxious  to  crush 
the  project  of  an  edict  favorable  to  the  Huguenots.  His  hatred 
for  them  was  not  at  this  time  his  only,  or  even  his  chief  mo- 
tive. He  wished  that  this  abandonment  of  them  should  be 
connected  in  the  king's  mind  with  scruples  and  fears  which 
might  be  made  use  of  for  another  purpose. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  297 


LXVII. 

SUPERSTITIOUS      TERRORS. 

If  Bridaine  had  been  disposed  to  aid  him,  he  could  not  better 
have  done  so,  for  he  followed  with  terrible  accuracy  the  sum- 
mary which  he  had  given  in -his  exordium. 

His  first  division  had  turned  upon  death. 

"  You  must  die !"  he  said ;  and  the  very  tone  in  which  he 
had  uttered  the  words,  gave  to  this  assertion,  so  common  in 
itself,  and  almost  trivial,  something  new  and  striking.  It  was 
no  longer  a  mortal  man  announcing  a  fate  which  is  also  to  be 
his ;  it  was  a  messenger  from  on  high  pronouncing  a  sen- 
tence. 

"  You  must  die  !  How  harsh  is  this  saying  to  every  human 
ear  !  Harsh  to  those  who  have  had  many  enjoyments ;  harsh, 
especially  to  those  who  have  sinned  without  enjoyment,  and 
who  have  lost  their  time  for  this  life  as  well  as  the  next ! 

"  You  must  die !  And  when  1  It  is  a  very  happy  thing,  it. 
is  said,  that  you  are  ignorant  of  this.  A  happy  thing  that  you 
are  ignorant  of  it?  Happy,  yes,  in  truth,  happy,  but  only  in 
case  you  think  of  death,  think  of  it  unceasingly,  so  that  you 
may  defy  it  to  surprise  and  terrify  you,  at  whatever  hour  it 
may  come.  But  if  you  never  think  of  it,  if  you  only  approach 
the  idea  when  it  is  put  directly  beneath  your  eyes,  and  when 
we  hold  you  fast  with  both  hands  in  order  to  prevent  you 
from  turning  away  your  eyes ;  if,  even  then  you  only  carry 
away  a  vague  and  vain  terror,  oh  !  then  is  it  the  chief  punish- 
ment of  your  crimes,  the  first  link  of  the  pitiless  chain  with 
which  an  avenging  God  is  going  to  bind  you  forever,  that  you 
should  be  ignorant  of  it.  To  be  ignorant  when  you  are  to 


298  RABAUT     AND     BIUDATNE,     OR 

die !  Yes,  for  the  righteous  it  is  a  blessing,  because  he  is  pre- 
pared for  death  at  all  times,  and  because  the  emotions  of  a 
death-bed,  capable  of  working  so  many  marvels  in  an  instant 
of  time,  last  for  him  twenty,  forty  years,  a  whole  life-time ! 
But  for  the  wicked,  the  impious,  for  all  those  who  have  for- 
gotten or  braved  the  anger  of  God,  this  very  ignorance  is  but 
the  beginning  of  the  darkness  which  is  to  increase  forever  and 
ever  around  those  who  are  not  worthy  of  the  light.  Once, 
once  only,  the  darkness  will  be  torn  aside  for  an  instant. 
When  the  last  moment  shall  arrive,  when  the  soul  shall  separ- 
ate from  the  body  which  has  lost  and  degraded  it,  then  for  an 
instant  there  shall  be  a  great  light.  Time  which  is  ended,  and 
eternity  which  begins,  shall  be  at  the  same  moment  illumi- 
nated. On  the  one  hand,  a  past  without  God ;  and  on  the 
other  a  future  without  God.  Here  remorse, — there  torment. 
And  when  the  criminal  shall  have  clearly  seen,  well  measured 
the  past,"  and  fully  comprehended  that  the  future  is  now  meas- . 
ureless,  then  all  will  fall  back  again  into  its  eternal  obscurity. 
Then  go,  go,  thou  guilty  soul, — go  on, — go  on  forever,  go  on, 
as  if  thou  wert  seeking,  but  thou  knowest  that  thou  wilt  find 
nothing.  Go  on,  as  if  thou  wert  hoping,  but  thou  knowest  that 
there  is  no  more  hope  for  thee.  The  only  thing  that  could 
have  rendered  thy  wretchedness  endurable,  was  taken  from 
thee  at  the  threshold.  Where  eternity  begins  there  hope  ends!" 

Thus  spoke  Bridaine.  Was  he  quite  right?  Ought  the 
hell  of  Dante  to  be  that  of  the  Christian  theologian  ?  A  poor 
Christian  he,  in  any  case,  who  needs,  in  order  to  rouse  his  soul 
and  restrain  him  from  committing  too  much  evil,  to  be  terri- 
fied by  eternal  torments  ! 

But  such  Christians  are  of  necessity  numberless  in  a  sensual 
impressible  age,  when  men  pass  lightly  from  impiety  to  fan- 
aticism, from  luxury  to  macerations. 


THE     COURT     OF     LOUIS     XV.  299 

And  accordingly  the  impression  was  great,  deep,  general. 
It  even  reached  the  chapel  of  Helvetius.  More  than  one  of 
the  leaders  of  the  infidelity  of  the  day,  felt  a  shudder  run 
through  him,  as  he  said  to  himself:  "  If  it  should  be  true  !" 

But  the  king  no  longer  said  if.  He  plunged  his  terrified 
gaze,  with  a  feverish  avidity,  into  all  the  abysses  which  the 
missionary  uncovered ;  he  felt  upon  his  brow  the  heat  of  all 
those  flames  whose  image  was  called  up  by  Bridaine.  His 
head  became  confused  ;  his  faculties  weakened  by  dissipation, 
floated  in  an  ocean  of  horrors. 

And  Desmarets  hanging  over  him,  fascinated  him  by  his 
inexorable  gaze. 

And  upon  this  motionless  face,  he  seemed  to  see  the  smile 
of  a  demon  watching  the  tortures  of  the  damned. 

Suddenly  he  threw  himself  back ;  with  his  convulsed  hand 
he  seized  that  of  Desmarets. 

"  Save  me !"  he  cried.     "  Save  me  !" 
\     But  Desmarets  appeared  not  to  hear. 

"  Save  me !" 

"Sire,"  said  Richelieu,  "calm  yourself;  they  will  near 
you." 

"  Save  me  !"  he  said,  again. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?"  said  Desmarets,  coldly. 
.  "  Much,— much." 

"  Nothing." 

"  Nothing — oh  God !  nothing !" 

"  Nothing,  so  long  as — " 

He  stooped  and  whispered  in  the  king's  ear. 

"  This  edict  which  you  purpose  making  ?" 

"  The  edict  1" 

"Yes.  Hope  not  to  move  God  while  you  are  making  trea- 
ties with  his  enemies.  This  edict  is  already  written  down  with 


300  RABAUT     AXD     BRIO  A  INK. 

letters  of  fire  in  the  book  of  crimes.  It  is  there, — for  eter- 
nity—" 

And  the  penetrating  voice  of  the  missionary  resounded 
through  the  gathering  obscurity. 

"  Eternity,"  he  said ;  "  eternity  !  Know  you  what  eternity 
is  ?  It  is  a  shoreless  ocean,  a  boundless  desert,  a  fathomless 
abyss.  It  is  time,  but  time  again  become  motionless  as  before 
the  creation.  It  endures, — and  it  does  not  endure.  It  moves 
on, — yet  it  moves  not.  And  the  damned  strive  in  vain  to 
measure  it.  And  a  lamentable  voice  is  heard  from  hour  to 
hour,  crying — '  What  time,  O  what  time  is  it  now  !'  And 
the  voice  of  another  unhappy  wretch  groans,  '  It  is  eternity  !' " 

"Take  it,"  said  the  king,  precipitately,  "take  it,  take  it. 
Tear  it.  Eternity, — oh  heaven !  eternity.  Tear  it — tear  it — " 

And  the  edict  fell,  torn  into  fragments,  at  the  feet  of  the 
Jesuit. 

The  charm  was  broken.  The  king  had  paid  his  ransom. 
Would  not  the  blood  of  the  heretics  lead  him  to  heaven  1 

He  was  calmer  already.  All  his  terrors  were  dispersed  by 
the  magic  influence  of  an  expiation  at  the  expense  of  another. 

The  next  day,  in  the  enchanted  groves  of  Bellevue,  he  re- 
lated himself  to  liis  mistress  the  story  of  the  gloomy  sermon. 


